Going to church with Grandma

St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church

When I was little, my paternal Grandmother took charge over my religious education.  It brings back many fond memories of holding her hand and entering into the oddly shaped pyramid structure of St. John's Church in my home town.  Grandma always wore pink and smelled of Avon's Gardenia perfume.  Her long hair, all silver and braided meticulously in a bun, sparkled in the soft candle light and she always looked like an angel.

I attended Sunday school first thing each week.  Something that always perplexed me because almost always it involved the use of giant globs of paste for some thematic craft and left my fingers sticking together through every sermon.  I remember the mess more than the lessons.

My first introduction to singing in public occurred at church.  Grandma had a beautiful voice and was in the church choir.  She taught me countless hymns.  I was too young to be in the choir then but would sit in my pew and sing along, watching her wink at me.

When I was a young teen, I became more active in the church and started singing as a feature during worship.  The church had expanded to a lavish new addition with the most incredible acoustics.  I looked forward to every Sunday with a special thrill because, to me, church always meant music - the pipe organ, the choir and raising my voice with faith in my heart.  I went on to study voice at the Catholic conservatory.  Until she passed, Grandma would come and sit in the cathedral during my lessons because my voice wafted there from the studio just on the other side of the wall.    

My life has lead me along a very twisted path in my religious beliefs.  I have set foot in almost every kind of denomination house.  Admittedly, my singing took me to some truly wonderful places and exposed me to so many wisdoms.  I gained great spirituality from the joy of singing.  I don't know what Grandma would think of me these days but I believe she would be proud that I never stopped growing and ascending in spirit.  Funny how the simplest things mold you.  This morning, I realized writing this, just how simple life is.  Some people search a lifetime to find God.  For me, God is as close as a bottle of Gardenia perfume and the sweet memory of Grandma singing "How Great Thou Art".

Dos Gardenias Para Ti By Alexandrina Karadjova