Home Away from Home

Marlyss Maxham

Mrs. Owens

English H

14 December 2005

Home away from home

As I walk down the crowded halls, trying to find my way, I stumble over my own two feet because I am distracted. I am looking at all the unknown faces and wondering why they are so happy. What is that joy I see in their faces? I keep wondering, why I am here? We have never been here before. When did we start going to church? Puzzled and contemplating, I finally end up in the third to fifth grade class where I belong. I see a teacher and a room full of students talking to each other and laughing. I feel so small and left out, like an outsider of all this fun and laughter. At that moment I wish more than ever to be at home playing with my friends instead of having to endure this strange new place, but I am here.

As I look back at my first impression of the little church I have grown to love, I almost laugh at the thought of feeling misplaced there. Over the last five years that building has become a place I love and cherish. A place to be myself, a place to be comfortable with my flaws and know that I am always welcomed. Through the years I laughed, cried, slept, ate, and been completely apart of that little church. I now walk through the halls with confident stride and a gait of purpose knowing every face in the hall, the faces that once seemed so unfamiliar.

Over the years my church has grown from one building to two and while it is different in small ways, it is very much the same. The church is made up of two buildings with memories filling every corner and joy eking out of the walls. The first building, the original building is where all the kids go to Sunday school, this is where I first came as a newbie to this church. It always smells like glue and sanitizer and is so welcoming with coloring sheets hanging on the walls, that little artist have poured there heart and soul into to make the church beautiful. You can always here laughter and happy chatter and if you listen closely and hard enough, you can always here small voices saying powerful prayers. The children’s side feels like sunshine, ready to wrap you in a blanket and make you feel nice and cozy. On the kids side of the church it always taste like sugar, just ready for little children to gobble up in the forms of cookies, apple juice, and candy. Being on the children’s side always reminds me that I am supposed to have a child-like faith.

The other side of the building, while it offers a more serious tone, is just