I'll admit to being a slave to today's consumer economy. Up until recently (yes-I have read the papers) I willingly spend $2.00 on bottled water and continue to drive to the grocery store as opposed to walking, when gas is $1.20 a litre. And to top it all off, I love shopping.
In fact, I love shopping so much that I haven't been shocked by a price tag in well over 2 years. When it comes to shopping, I prefer the hands on method. I like to know where I'm finding things, which rack, which pile, which SALE BIN (sorry, I get excited...) and I like to know where things come from.
I'm the girl with six dresses over her arm, a latte in one hand, purse and cell phone in the other, trying to balance a shoebox on her knee while reaching into a sweater to find out if it is, indeed, real cashmere for that price. I like to feel things, try things, taste things, and think about things (yes, mom, I do) before I buy them. Buyers remorse is no carriage ride through a standing
One would assume that, as such a passionate and hands-on shopper, I would be able to find happiness shopping for anything, under any circumstance. At least this is what I assumed. But shopping for a church is an entirely different story. All my life I have had my parishes chosen for me via my father's profession.
While my father has always been open minded, a preachers child saying "Hey, dad, I'm going to church somewhere better this Sunday!" doesn't exactly earn brownie points at the dinner table. So for the past 20 years I've gone to the churches my father has been the rector of, and I've actively participated, and been enthusiastic about embracing the congregation.
The problem is, my father no longer has a parish (he's Senior Port Chaplain at Mission to Seafarers now), which means I no longer have a parish, which means my spirituality is awfully lonely, and to be quite honest, floundering.
So I set out about eight Sundays ago to try and find a new parish, one that was accepting, and excited about the future of the Anglican church. I made it to Christ Church Cathedral and haven't been to church since (love the cathedral, hate the pedestrians crossing on the FLASHING ORANGE HAND.) I'll admit, I've become quite lazy, and, while I've never said this before, (I'll make a first), most Sunday mornings, I just don't feel like shopping. So I'm sending out a cry for help. I need a church!
I'm happy anywhere in the lower mainland, while I live on the North Shore, I have a boyfriend in White Rock, so you guys would work; I have an awesome friend in PoCo, and I'm out there Saturday nights for Roosters Country Cabaret anyways, so that would be just fine; Burnaby, you're just one bridge away, I can do that, and downtown? I guess I could learn to take public transit...the point is, I'm willing to sacrifice mileage (or at least use anti-bacterial hand sanitizer after riding the Skytrain) to feed my Anglican soul.
All I'm looking for is a church that loves its little ones, loves its old ones, loves its in-betweens, loves its real baked communion bread on special occasions (as opposed to the wafers), and doesn't cheat with grape juice (but has it available if I were to ask.) Okay, and maybe a church with a youth group or a young adults group, a choir (or at least the intentions of one day starting one), and a minister who doesn't read his or her sermons word for word behind the pulpit, and is comfortable with shades of gray instead of black and white. I need some hallelujah arms (the smaller versions of the ones in Sister Act, I'm not Gospel.) I just need passion, warmth, and commitment.
This is my personal ad. I'm a friendly 20ish female (with great shoes) seeking a comforting place to gather around 10 am on Sunday mornings. You can reach me by email (address in the box below). Tell me why your church would work for me, and I promise I'll show up, at least once!