Everyone was dressed casually and we felt comfortable. My kids were excited to go to their classes and the music in the sanctuary was very good. I enjoyed clapping my hands along to the tunes, I can’t sing so I didn’t even try. Everything seemed to be ok until the message started.

The pastor started by telling the congregation what an awful place the world has become. He then stressed that Americans are the greatest people in the world, and we’re unjustly persecuted. Then, he alerted us to the many lost souls around us — Catholics, Muslims, Homosexuals and those who don’t know Jesus. He also asked us to pray about the president, who is so very lost. And some of the lost, he continued, were in the church at that very moment — I waited for him to stare right at me when he said this.

I began to wonder if the preacher and I were living in parallel worlds because my world doesn’t look like his. At all.

I heard a few more warnings and loud amens and the message was finally over. I definitely needed some fresh air. I went to pick up my children, and have to say, that they really enjoyed their time in the church classes.

I know that my friend invited me to be nice and to share something she believes in, maybe because she was hoping she could help me to be ’saved’ but I appreciated were her feelings were coming from.

I respect that and appreciate her efforts.

But while I don’t wish to disrespect anyone’s views, I found the preacher’s rhetoric and his worldview disappointing. For a place so filled with love and camaraderie, I was saddened that he asked his congregation to focus on God by telling them who was outside the fold. I’m not saying he doesn’t have the right to say which ideas are right and wrong – that’s part of his interpretation of what his faith is.

But I’m uncomfortable with anyone who can preach with such confidence that “we’re morally superior, they’re morally astray.”

I’ve met very religious people before who didn’t make me feel this way.

And it’s not only extremely conservative groups who alienate “outsiders.” Uber liberals do the same thing, without ever seeing the irony in accusing everyone else of being intolerant and, after all, lost.

I guess I can’t tolerate someone who preaches love when they can’t tolerate so many other human beings for their choices.

I’ll always be friends with the woman who invited me to church, but I won’t be going back, despite the nice buildings and the great coffee.

I got in the van early in the morning and had the girls wear pretty dresses. I wore black pants and a black shirt and no make up. I consider the fact that I managed to look decent a great accomplishment, make up would have been pushing it — too much stress on myself.

Holidays are tougher for me because I always miss my loud and warm Italian family back in Rome. It’s an ache, not a pain, but my thoughts wonder to the holidays with them and my heart grows a bit heavier during these occasions.

Easter, Christmas, birthdays….back home they meant relatives, great food, gossip, more great food, more relatives, more gossip.

Today I tried to create the traditions I grew up with for my daughters. I admit, doing it alone is a bit tougher than doing it with my peeps.

The church was packed. I could tell before I even got to the parking lot. I parked on the grass, where I shouldn’t have and where many other cars had already parked because I didn’t want to walk with all the girls without the stroller. Lazy on a sunny and windy Easter day.

When we got to the church we were 10 minutes late. As soon as I approached the entrance an USHER opened the door for me and urgently informed that:

“THE CHURCH IS PACKED THERE IS NO ROOM”. I kid you not, he stared me down. And I heard attitude in his voice and saw it in his guarded posture.

I replied:
“Are you telling me that there is no room for me and my family TODAY? In this church?” You can imagine my tone. I reserve that tone when I interrogate someone hostile or when my children throw objects at each other and fail to stop at the first warning.

Of course, I didn’t wait for his reply. I just walked inside the church and shook my head vigorously mumbling some mysterious Italian words.

Is it just as bad on the sin scale if I swear in a different language in a church? No one could hear my words ….or read my lips for that matter. Maybe it’s not as bad.

Anyway, we made it inside the church and the girls and I stood in a corner. My daughters miraculously made it through the entire mass without yelling or killing each other. In fact, some good Samaritans came over to comment on how well behaved the girls were, and offered us their seats.

I tried to keep a positive attitude after the mean USHER episode, because I really wanted to make my time count. I haven’t been very good at going to church, and by going to church I mean elevating myself beyond the mundane stuff and my own torturing doubts.

I find myself inpatient or short tempered often, while driving in heavy traffic, writing for a deadline, trying to keep the girls on track, arguing with my husband about my speed and his lack of speed and the worse stressor of all:

Bad, bad pizza. It triggers bouts of anxiety and panic that there isn’t a decent pizza joint within a 50 miles radius from our home. I checked, and checked and hoped only to be disappointed.
How many times can a heart be broken?

Today I tried to forget about my broken heart, to be above the things that get me and to be thankful for all that I have which is truly a lot.

Hope you all had a great Easter.

Click here to view the embedded video.