I felt connected at worship this morning, to generations of worshipers. To my grandmother, who loves Jesus and has been a great example of grace. To my mom, who trained me. To Mary, Naomi, Esther, Ruth, Rachel, Rebekah and all the other women in the Bible who worshiped the same God.

Our pastor spoke of the amazing mystery of being a tabernacle, the dwelling place of God. It is awe inspiring to realize that I possess the living God in my body. I sat there, ashamed of the ways I reject the God who created me. The ways in which my pride takes over and I am left with less than what God wants of me.

As I raised my hands in worship, I remembered the first services I participated in at Brookhills. Where my heart was healed after years of running from God. I felt connected to the person I used to be, and realized how far I’ve come in the past five years. The words poured out of me at the end of the service, when our pastor gave us time to respond to the message. I can’t even remember the specifics of my prayer, only wanting to belong to God completely and fully. Realizing that this was the last Sunday I would worship with my faith family until October was emotional. Our God is not a God of time, and those months will pass faster than I could ever imagine. But I will still miss this place, these people.