On February 21, 2021 I attended church for the first time in over twenty years. That was a victory on its own as my next door neighbor had been asking me to join her for a few months. I always found some excuse, but for some reason things began to change that February. It was the day before the big freeze in Texas, Saturday, February 13, 2021 when I finally agreed to attend with her. I recall saying that I wouldn’t go that next day as I needed to prepare for the probable power loss and extreme cold temperatures but that I would go the following weekend. Long story short, the freeze happened as was forecasted and I was fortunately well prepared.
Fast forward a few days and Sunday came around again. I plugged the address of the church into my Google Maps app and drove over the Fred Hartmann bridge for the first of what would be countless times. I arrived about a minute after my neighbor and her kiddos did. As we were walking into the building, I began to put on my face mask (begrudgingly) only to find out that they weren’t required. That, on its own, put a spring in my step. As we walked up to the entrance, the greeters smiled and welcomed us. Worship was already in progress, so we hurried into the auditorium and headed up the stairs to the middle of the far right (from stage view) risers where my neighbor’s parents had saved seats for us. I recall that it was cold in the auditorium. I don’t remember the message that the Pastor gave but I do recall having something stirred inside of me. It was at the end of that service during the altar call that I gave my heart to Jesus. And so my journey began…