"The story goes that a public sinner was excommunicated and forbidden entry to the church. He took his woes to God. 'They won't let me in, Lord, because I am a sinner.'
'What are you complaining about?' said God. 'They won't let Me in either."
― Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel: Good News for the Bedraggled, Beat-Up, and Burnt Out
All eyes were on us as we entered.
It continued until we sat down.
We found a seat on one of the last two rows in the back of the church. We had never gone to church before and this place was crowded toward the center onward.
There was this lady with short salt and pepper hair who came from the opposite end to ask me to take off my hat. I guess only then she realized where I needed to actually be. She wore a smile she thought was enough to convince me. It didn't.
"Excuse me, son, but how old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"Well, guess what we have in store for you?" She began to explain.
A church for kids? Fuck out of here lady.
It was what I wanted to say, but I didn't.
My Dad was on the opposite end with my Mom in-between us. My mom was enjoying the music from the choir with all the swaying she was doing, while my dad was trying to peer over to where I was, and he was none too pleased. I thought it was because of the little resistance I put up by following her out still wearing a dead man's hat. He had told me to take it off too.