I really have to give a lot of credit to my Mom for raising me the way she did. We went to church every Sunday, unless you were deathly ill. I tried to pull that one off a few times, but she saw right through me. I resorted to whining and complaining a lot. She resorted to bribery. "If you go to church, I'll take you to Newberry's five and dime and you can get a slice of custard pie while I look at fabric". It worked every time.
Even though I complained a lot about going to church with her, after she died, I continued going. It helped me get through things knowing that it helped her get through things in her life. I remember being afraid at night and not wanting to tell my dad, I would fall asleep hugging my Bible. I knew there was peace and comfort to be found there. To this day, I still go to church and I still read my Bible. I believe in miracles and I know I will see my Mom again some day.
My dad never went to church. Which explains a lot about him.
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