I have extremely fond memories of my childhood church.  No, I wasn’t an established member with a long line of relatives who were pillars in the church.  And I certainly wasn’t a financial asset to the budget.  I was a young girl from a disadvantaged family who came to church with a neighbor friend.

And yet, this church became my family.  They welcomed me with open arms, were always glad to see me, and made sure I felt loved and cared for.  I always knew they were behind me, cheering me on, helping me move forward in my walk with Christ and in life.

They showed interest in my struggles—and in my successes.  I never felt invisible or unimportant there.  Cliques were nonexistent and gossip never reached my ears or came from my own mouth.  It was a place where I could thrive and grow.

Over the years, I have realized that my early church home was a special gift from God.  Something I have never been able to replace.  Life can take us on many different paths—travel, ministry, or work.  Yet deep down, our hearts will always long to be fully embraced by a loving and supportive church home.