I’m the granddaughter of two preachers, so I grew up in church. Most of my childhood was spent in my family’s red brick, Brooklyn house of worship – Tuesday night Bible study, Thursday’s noonday prayer, Friday’s other Bible study, Saturday’s pre-Sunday cleanup and Sunday’s Sunday School, morning service and evening service. Yeah. I know.
I don’t attend church as much as I’d like to or should. Besides work, there’s not even a legitimate excuse – my university had weekly Chapel services and Bible study classes available. I guess I’ll deal with the wrath of my family – and, you know, God – when the time comes.
But I think that the times I do go should count doubly because in all honesty – Black church services are long. Longgg. From praise and worship to the actual sermon to the announcements and benediction, various services can run for hours on end. And then to make matters worse, my family would have the tendency to stay an extra hour to catch up on the previous week’s gossip. Y’all see why most of my growing up was done in church, right? BECAUSE I NEVER GOT TO LEAVE.
Since today’s Easter, I anticipate more of the same. But at the ripe-old age of 23, I suppose that I’m used to it. See you guys in 2024!
[Lead image via Kulturadorba]