Church Quirks

It's been a trying week. What with getting dropped from one of my jobs (mind you, I wasn't fired) and some of my life dreams being crushed to pieces, I just feel like I want to bundle up in a big quilt and gorge myself on red wine and chocolate. Or throw something. Or shred paper in to tiny little pieces in my rage. Why doesn't life go according to my plan? In an effort to preserve my sanity and surround myself with an uplifting group of others who may believe the same way I do, I went to church. Church formerly was a comfort blanket to me. No more, but I still desire to find a community of real believers who live real lives and live in the real world. Churches have funny quirks. For example... the second verse of hymns is lost to church-goers... especially Southern Baptists. I'm not sure if at one time it was deemed "evil" or "sinful" or overlooked for some other reason, but no one ever sings it. And why do churches, especially small ones, feel the need to decorate their sanctuary in the scheme of one color? You know what I mean- the walls are blue, the pews are blue, even the carpet is blue. I feel like I'm swimming in a dolphin tank. And why, for the love of god, do churches insist on giving people personality quizzes entitled: "Find your Spiritual Gifts in 20 Minutes!" What??? I could comment, but I won't. Despite all these faults that I see, I still long for a church community to call my own. "Why?" I ask myself. Is it because I was brought up on church for so long, and it's so engrained in me that I can't bring myself to stay away for long? Like I've been programmed to want to go to church and my Sunday feels empty if I don't go? Is it because it is a weekly(or few times weekly) outing for most of the people that I know? Or is it for a deeper reason? Some engrained longing or draw to a relationship with Someone or Something that can make us feel like we have a purpose in this crazed world we live in? I'm not sure of the answer, but I know I want it. I want to feel apart of a group of people who will enfold me in their arms, hold me close, an whisper lovingly that I've done alright in this life. Even if they do smell funny or bring big pots of surprises for lunch every Sunday.I think that may be why they call it Pot "Luck"...