The Offering

Church was the last place I wanted to be

- By MICHELLE JUAREZ, Schertz, Texas

Sundays used to be my favorite day of the week. I would pop out of bed and get ready for church. I loved worshipping alongside my husband, Robert. It was a chance to grow closer to each other and to God. I used to leave church feeling renewed. Excited for the week ahead.

Used to. As in, no longer. For the past two months, ever since I'd been laid off from my job as a preschool teacher's aide, church was the last place I wanted to be. The idea that God was looking out for me personally—well, I wasn't buying it anymore. I dreaded talking to people after Mass, with their questions about how my job search was going and their assurances that “it will all work out.” I would much rather be spending Sunday mornings hiding under the covers, the way I'd been spending every morning lately.

This Sunday, Robert's family was holding a special Mass to honor his late father and brother. I had to go to church, but I didn't have to like it. I dawdled getting dressed, dissatisfied with everything in my closet.

“Are you ready?” Robert said, poking his head in.

“Do I look ready?” Instantly, I felt bad for snapping at him—but not bad enough not to complain about one thing after the other during the entire drive to church. “Could you park any farther away?” I asked as Robert pulled into a space.