Yesterday I went to the 8:30 service at Alice’s church. I walked there even though it was only 20-something degrees out. It was clear and sunny and the church felt warm and welcoming once you got through the heavy wooden doors. I didn’t recognize anyone there though everyone I did speak with wished me a smiling good morning. I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t smiling. The service was good. They were celebrating Christ the King Sunday so there was lots of talk of Fathers and Sons. I liked the hymns and the minister’s lesson about needing to stand up in the word of God. I’m not religious and my brother most certainly wasn’t but I want to learn more about it and hope that it will help add some more meaning to my life. As I walked out the minister greeted me and I introduced myself by saying that I was a friend of Alice Potter’s. She seemed to remember me from the funeral. Then I told her what had happened. She immediately put her giant arm around me and talked gently to me. She told me that my brother had a sickness in his heart and that is what caused him to do this thing. She also said that God was there to hold him the second he left us and then she prayed with me. I cried and sank into her shoulder. She said that they would remember my brother during the next service. I felt good about going and I want to go back again. I don’t know how my brother would feel about me becoming a regular church goer following what he did, he probably wouldn’t like it. But you know what? I don’t give a damn what he would think.


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