Church Home

Church home.

I've never been altogether certain what that term means.

What I do know, however, is that twice in my life I've been fortunate enough to find myself regularly attending a church that, well, feels like home.  St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Franklin, where I attended in the late 1990's was a very special place to me.  For the past 7 or 8 years, I've attended St. Patrick Catholic Church on Second Avenue in South Nashville.

I've written a lot about St. Patrick in the past, as it's an important part of our family's infrastructure.  We're there, almost without fail, every Sunday.  I say that not to appear overly pious, but to point out that attending 11 a.m. mass at St. Patrick is woven into the fabric of our lives.

What's really been enjoyable has been watching J.P. there, literally growing up before our fellow parishioners' eyes.  He's the youngest regular attendee and everyone knows him.  He's loved the people we see at St. Patrick every Sunday.  It's a palpable, tangible love, too.  I can feel it when I see people smile at him as we walk in or shake his hand as he wanders from pew to pew, offering others a sign of peace.

Last Sunday, Joey made his debut at St. Patrick (on Dr. Godfrey's advice, Jude had kept him home for the first six weeks of his life).  Each Sunday since he was born, everyone had asked about him, so I was anxious for them to meet him.  Jude and J.P. dropped off the doughnuts (we always hit Krispy Kreme on Sunday mornings) we had brought and I walked inside with Joey, a few minutes after the service had started.  I located Jim and Jane (Jude's parents) and walked over to them, cradling Joey in my arms.  Almost everyone I passed looked at us and smiled.  Again, I felt that palpable, tangible love, and I was grateful for it.

Soon Jude and J.P. joined us and we sat together on the row, one big family, Jane, J.P., Jude, Joey, me and Jim (I just realized - that's a lot of "J's").  J.P. meandered from one end of our row to the other, as he typically does, and Joey slept in infant seat/car carrier for most of the service.  He stirred and woke up right before it was time to take communion, so I lifted him out, stood up and got in the communion line.  As we made our way up to the front of the church and to Father David Perkin, I was filled with emotion - happiness, pride, peace.

Father David gave Joey a blessing and our friend, Ann Kulkinski, did the same.  When we circles around and got back to our seats, I looked down at Joey and he was smiling.  Looking up at me and smiling.  I smiled back down at him, glanced around and took a minute to think about how lucky, truly lucky and blessed, I am.