I didn’t go to church growing up. Well that’s not exactly true. I did go from time to time when my Brownie troupe went, or when I stayed over at a friend’s house on a Saturday evening. But I never went with my family. I did not grow up knowing Sunday school, or church picnics or any of the other community events that come with being a member of a church. However, somewhere along the way I did end up with a relationship with God nonetheless.
My parents both attended church as children. My father even attended a religion-based school, but both stopped going sometime around their teenage years. After they married and later had children they decided, that they would not baptize my sibling and me, but they would wait until we developed an interest/curiosity and then support us in exploring our own faith choices from there. Religion was not looked upon negatively but it was also not focused upon. It is also worth noting that Mr. Tea Cup was brought up attending church weekly and stopped going in early adulthood.
Although I understand why my parents made the choice they did, I sometimes wonder what it would have been like growing up in the church community. I do feel as though I have always had a connection to faith, but I did not have the “paperwork” so to speak. I was not baptized. I did not make my first communion. I did not have the “home base” that a church can provide.
Somewhere around the second trimester of my pregnancy, I started to think more deeply about my faith and really realized that I felt like there was something missing. I am not sure if it was the absolute miracle of carrying a baby or something else, but I felt like I needed to strength my connection to God and I wanted to do it sooner rather then later.