Living in 1995 (BC)

We have a group of ladies at our church who lead the children's ministry. They take turns giving the children's message in morning worship. Today was about tithing and she used a good example of the "french fry" tax. You know, when you buy fries for you kid and you always take a fry or two. You bought it for them, so technically it is yours. I thought it was a good analogy, and it reminded me of a small misunderstanding I had as a child.

Growing up, I was told that the church is God's house. This phrase was usually used when someone told you not to bring food or drinks in the sanctuary, or when we had to clean up after ourselves in the church. I think I mainly heard it when we were getting ready on Sunday mornings.  I was only allowed to wear dresses until we discovered these pants that were dressy but kind of looked like pajamas.* Then we went to a church my dad called the flip-flop church and jeans were not a big deal.

 In addition to being told that the church is God's house, I was also told the money we tithe goes to God. I would see the deacons take the offering plates out the side doors near the stage.

The carpet was red

In my mind, God lived in the back near the baptistry. Basically, I was living in 1995 BC, when God's presence resided in the Holy of Holies. In addition to my tithe, I would write letters every week and put them in the offering plate so the ushers could deliver them to God. I'm pretty sure my mom received a letter from one of the people who prayed for the prayer requests saying they got a kick out of all my letters.

Since I am having fun confessing (and drawing arrows),  this is the pew we always sat in. Although, it looks like they switched out the pews. Which is probably for the best, because the pews we sat in had my teeth marks from when I would sit there and absentmindedly chew on the side.

I walked in on Ollie today being read to about Jesus. He was sitting at the table and really paying attention to the story. I am excited to see him make memories with our church family. I am hoping pew chewing isn't genetic.


*I can not find a picture of these pants on the internet, so I might be remembering this completely wrong. There may not even have been a dress rule. I was five when the supposed Great Pants Debate of '95 was held.**

**I just revealed my age***

***Can you have footnote for a footnote?****

****No