I think I’m going back to Westside for a visit, and if it’s still the place where my hands raise up in spite of myself, I’ll be so hugely relieved.
I miss my small group. I miss intense prayer in groups of people who are so wound in and out of each other’s lives that we can easily complete each others’ thoughts. I miss so many of the people. I want to see Gary Hendricks again. I can’t wait to see the babies that have been born since I left.
Here’s the kind of place Westside is: the first time I went to Westside for church was a Christmas musical thing…I don’t really remember whether it was church or just a musical…but I went alone. I was so freaked out I had to call my brother from the parking lot for moral support. When I finally went in, one of the women from the worship team noticed that I was there alone and she said, “Would you like to sit with my family? I’m getting ready to go up on the stage and you can borrow them if you’d like.” It was such a nice gesture that I did borrow them and they didn’t even mind!
And maybe, someday…Steve or Alex or both of them will actually want to go with me.