I’ve attended a lot of different churches in my lifetime, and I never really know how to answer people who ask me what denomination I am.

My dad grew up Baptist, and my mom grew up Methodist. When I was a child we lived in my dad’s hometown and were Baptist. When I was 4, we moved and became Methodist.

Toward the end of my elementary school years we switched to PCA, or Presbyterian Church in America, where we stayed the majority of my childhood. My parents were pretty good friends with the pastor’s family, and when he left about the time I was headed to high school, we did, too. We spent almost a year at an Episcopalian church and then spent even less time at a nondenominational church.

After that we just cut our losses and headed back to the same Presbyterian Church with our tail between our legs. Or at least that is how I felt as a 15-year-old having to explain to my church peers, who nearly all went to the same private school together, where I had been for a year.

It always seemed like the second I’d start to feel comfortable there, the youth minister would up and leave for another job somewhere else. I got a bit rebellious to this whole “church” thing at that time. My mom seemed to be the only one in the family who wanted to be there.

A strange set of circumstances led me to attending a Methodist college. It’s not really what I wanted, but it’s how things ended up for me. Once I realized the school would be my only option if I didn’t want to stay at home, I got on board. My rebellious heart secretly started to wonder about, and long for, the kind of church type things I’d be doing at a Christian school.

It turned out it only meant we were required to take four religion courses. Aside from Old and New Testament, those courses could be anything under the religion spectrum. It was up to us to choose to go to chapel or a worship gathering, and I actually chose to do so.

During my senior year of college, my dad made his own decision and joined the Catholic Church. Once I moved back home after school, I attended mass with my parents. Even though I didn’t join, I really enjoy mass and have a lot of respect for the church. When I moved to Tuscaloosa and became involved with a Methodist church again and saw all the Catholic qualities in it while also being reminded of my time in college, and I got baptized for the first time.

My parents were really cool about letting me come to that decision on my own and that’s why they never had me baptized as a child. I think it was great they didn’t force it on me but it also lead to embarrassment and not wanting to get up in front of everyone as an adult.

Again circumstance, i.e. God, stepped in and had it happened for me in a way I never thought.

I’m enjoying spending every Sunday at a different church in Vicksburg, almost as I have my whole life. Soon I’ll need to choose one to stick with for good, but for now, I’m really up for anything.