AS I stepped into the sanctuary, this Christmas eve of 2011, the tears began to well up and spill…read moreout almost immediately. It was the combination of the sights and sounds of St Pauls, a place that holds so many memories for me, most of them now bittersweet. The weight of these visions, weighed me down in the pew, and I could do nothing but let them wash over me and let the tears anoint my cheeks...
If you are searching for a comprehensive, useful review here, stop reading. Instead, you will have to endure the muddled recollections of a broken man. St Pauls is a fine enough church with a friendly and welcoming congregation, the only possible criticism is that its a little too traditional and it possibly puts too much emphasis on the external beauty of itself more than the internal (soul).
I grew up here, St Pauls was (is?) my home church. I was "forced" to come here as a teen by my Godmother/Aunt, who was worried about my spiritual upbringing. My adolescence was not a fun time. An absent father and an alcoholic and mentally ill mother were wearing away at my soul and I could have gone a number of directions in my social life- all of them damaging. I credit my Aunt with getting me to the right place at the right time thus steering me into the right direction.
At St Pauls, I found the perfect family in their Youth Group, affectionately known as SPY (St Pauls Youth). In them, I made friendships and connections that have lasted throughout my life. My fellow teens became like brothers and sisters and the Youth advisers became like parents ( or maybe more accurately, cool aunts and uncles). It was this motley crew, that kept me in line and sane throughout the tumultuous High School years.
Upon Graduation, we, who were left behind, didn't want it to end so we volunteered to guide the next generation of SPY and formed our own group of 20somethings, who met with the singular purpose to play some intense Volleyball...and maybe talk about that God guy.
It was at our weekly Volleyball meetings that I met my future wife, a beautiful , shy but courageous German au pair, who found our group by flipping through the phone book. I was almost immediately smitten and what followed was a great relationship, that yielded a marriage and 2 wonderful children. So many of our milestones happened here. We weren't married here ( it took place in Germany) but we did have a quasi-reception for family and friends, who didn't make the trip to Germany. There were baptisms, Christmas pageants, play groups, and of course, our weekly Sunday school and church. St Pauls was as much a part of our lives as any family member could be. St Pauls was the epicenter of everything good and positive in my life
Sadly, mental illness reared its ugly head in my life once again and claimed both my wife and a beloved member of my SPY youth leaders in a way that intertwined us in the worst of possible ways. No details only to say that all of the good and positive in my life had become a negative of itself. To look back at the "good" times was torturous and instead, I distanced myself from St Pauls. A place that was once the epicenter of good was now the epicenter of pain. So many memories, so many ghosts, swirled around the church and I, in my anguish, avoided it altogether.
...Until this year. I don't know what possessed me to attend the Christmas service with my estranged wife and children. They ( the kids) always loved the candlelight service and singing Christmas Hymns and I have to say that St Pauls does it right. They had a string quartet complete with the most melancholy of instruments, the cello and I cant even explain to what it was like for this soundtrack to accompany the ghosts of my past like that. It was tough indeed, but by the end, I feel like I had forged an uneasy truce with the building.
Its hard to say, whether or not I look at St Pauls as a place where everything good began or everything bad began. I cant blame a building for the acts of man (and women). Those tortuous memories dwell inside of me, regardless of if this Church still stands or how far I am away from it and its up to me to keep the ghosts from chilling my heart. What I'm trying to say, St Pauls, is that I forgive you.
Oh yeah, did I mention that Captain Noah goes here? Awesome!