What I do want to capture, however, is the course of my spiritual journey --- how I came to believe what I believe now. Everyone has a spiritual journey, some more noticeable than others. But mankind has struggled with religion since the beginning of time. We never seem to give up in our search for the real truth, that which will give meaning to our lives. I think I have found it, but not until recent years.
My Italian wife had an aunt who, upon meeting someone for the first time, would ask, "What's your story?" (Meaning, "Tell me about yourself.") So, here's mine.
My first recollection of anything religious was as a young child, age 3 or 4, living on 12th street in Hickory, North Carolina, where I was born. It seems that I was taken to Sunday School in a brick building nearby, but I recall nothing of what I observed. I also seem to remember having a pet dog, that got run over just in front of the church.
Maybe the trauma of that event blocked out any other memories of church, because I don't recall anything else related to church until I attended my first funeral. I may have been about 6, and my mother took a quick swipe at my dirty face with a smelly washcloth just before the funeral.
The deceased was my grandpa, on my Dad's side. I only have two memories of him. One is that he would always be waiting for us on the front porch, whenever we drove up. And, he would wind up the old pendulum wall clock just before bedtime every night. That clock is now decorating my living room, but has since stopped working.
At the funeral my mother lifted me up to the coffin and encouraged me to touch my grandpa's face. It was cold and leathery. But I wasn't afraid, and I recall nothing else of the funeral.
It is interesting that, at age 60, you begin to feel somewhat isolated, when you have no parents or other relatives to help you with the details. I don't know what the official age is when you're considered to be at the "other end" of your life. But, thank God for family. With family you're never alone. Which is why we should consciously include those who have no natural family close by, who need to feel the warmth of your own household.
Next stop on my religious tour was at age 8, when my Air Force family moved to Orlando, Florida. I was in vacation Bible school on the air base, and one of the projects was a paint-by-number painting of David defeating a lion that had been attacking his sheep. I was very meticulous in my attempts to add color to each section. But since VBS only lasted days --- not weeks --- my teacher helped me finish it. So, I honestly don't know how much of it is my own doing, but it still hangs in my family room to this day.
Within a year we moved from adjacent to the base to the east side of town, and my Dad starting taking me to a small, independent church. It was at this point that my religious observations began to develop.
