My Sanctuary

Bright and open, the sanctuary I've grown up in welcomes me for a minute of Just Jesus time before Bible study. I kneel at the alter where I was baptized and stare up at the majestic, stained-glass, floor-to-ceiling cross. For the first time in a week I'm breathing properly. I guess you could say church is sort of like my drug. Brushing the tears from my eyes I stand up from the alter and walk over to the CLC. I life my bag over my head and take my green covered, post-it-note filled, blue ink splattered Bible out. I walk towards the youth room and stop in the doorway.