Growing up I only got to attend church with my grandma when I went to her house for the summer. I also got to go when I stayed the night at my aunt's house. Those are great memories I have of my childhood. My dad's mom and sisters were very religious, the way I perceived things was that I had to give my heart to Jesus and He would magically make my life better. I think it was around the fourth grade that I made my way to the front of the church during service to have someone pray with me and ask Jesus into my heart. At that age I thought that had to be the reason my cousins lives were so great. Big fancy houses and brand new cars, the only thing I could see different was that they all went to church. I was pretty disappointed when as time went on nothing seemed to really change in my life. Then I contributed that to I wasn't perfect and my parents weren't perfect so God wouldn't do for my family what He seemed to be doing for others that I knew.
It was at that point I thought you had to be living a perfect life in order for God to save and love you. I couldn't have been more wrong. As time went on, I would attend a church service maybe once or twice a year, I always felt everyone should go to church on Christmas and Easter if you never stepped foot in church any other times, those two days were very important.
After I became an adult and had children of my own I wanted to have them in church, but it seemed as if every church I went to I felt judged and not good enough to be there. I let that keep me from not only having me in church but also my kids. There was a few times my kids would go to Wednesday night youth groups with friends they had met at school, but nothing on a regular basis. I look back now and it is really sad that I ever thought I wasn't good enough to step into a church.
It actually wasn't until 2015 when I stepped into a church in Colorado that I truly learned that Jesus died not just for the ones who had lived their whole life following God, but that Jesus died for the drug addicts, the mentally ill, the homeless just the same as He died for the others. Even though I had not lived a perfect God fearing life, He loved me anyway.
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