First Memory

I grew up in the Catholic Church. My butt has logged many hours in the hard wooden pews common in the Catholic Church buildings. My earliest church memories are from Our Lady of Loretto in Novato, CA. I remember the pews. The wood. The choir. The fellowship hall. Oh yes, the fellowship hall with its heavy curtains on the stage, the donuts, the monthly pancake breakfast and the endless space for a child to play. The fellowship hall was my favorite place. It is my favorite memory.

Sunday's I would sit in the pew and trace my finger along the grain of the wood pretending there was a car chase; my finger was the car and the wood grain was the road. I couldn't tell you the subject of a single sermon or which passages of scripture that were ever read. Those memories just aren't there. What I can tell you is that we used to play on the stage in the fellowship hall. We would hide, and run, and hide, and play (when I say 'we' I mean me and my brother and sisters). I know there were pastors (Father's) but I can't tell you the name of a single one. What I do know is that there were pancake breakfast's and I loved them. Looked forward to them. Longed for those Sunday's where I could smother some pancakes with berry syrup and drink down the best hot chocolate ever.

This is what I first remember about church.

This is my earliest memory about being part of the Body of Christ.

The fellowship hall.

Running, hiding, playing, and eating. First a little boredom then a little heaven. My earliest memory of church.