Finding My Church or Follow Up to Prelude to Finding God

The previous post was just to catch you up on where I am. This one tells the story of how I was actually introduced to the Church I'll be attending for the first time this coming Sunday. Here's a link to the Church: Unity Church of Charleston.
So, I was having a rough time. I decided I would take a friend up on her offer to attend a Tuesday night meditation class. And then I couldn't. My husband wasn't going to be home on time. And after all of the suggestions to go back to "my lexapro," I finally decided that must be the only thing I could do. Finally the block was opened. The tears began to fall. The sobs came. I had failed, for a second time, to take care of myself in a way that would be healthy enough to avoid drugs. Or perhaps, my brain just really doesn't work and I need the balance that only a chemical drug can offer. Like the comparison everyone always makes, if you were a diabetic would you avoid insulin? Well, YES, actually, I would. I would diet and exercise and do whatever else I could before actually taking the drugs. Then if I saw I needed them, I would take them. My already formed plan came immediately. I was calling my doctor the next day, asking for the prescription that he told me would be there if I ever needed it again. I tried to make it to my room before the tears got really obvious, but my youngest son caught me and squeezed me in a very comforting hug. Then he looked up at me, smiled and went back to playing. I made it to my closet, closed the door, on the phone with my husband, and fell into a full laundry basket, curled up like a baby, and let it go. He asked what was wrong and I told him this was it. I needed the medicine. I explained to him, through ragged sobs, how I thought that if I could only have found the way to work through my issues, I wouldn't really need the antidepressants, but since I couldn't get to wherever or whatever it was that could help me work it out, lexapro was the only thing left. Then my husband said one of the best things he's ever said to me. He said "I agree with you. I think you only need to work out your stuff. You don't need that medicine, and you hate the idea of taking it, didn't you get my text message?" What text message? The one that said he was on his way home and I could go to meditation class. No, I didn't get that. But, now that I heard, the tears stopped, of their own accord, just as quickly as they had come. I literally felt as though there was something pulling me from my heart, pulling me up to a standing position. I did not stop crying, as much as the crying just stopped all by itself. My mind was clear. I thanked my husband, hung up and promptly got myself together enough to not look quite as crazy as I was feeling, and prepared to make it out to that meditation class. I had to call my friend, busily caring for her pneumonia-ridden husband, several times before I finally understood her very clear and concise directions. She obviously couldn't come, so I was going alone. My brain was racing a million miles a minute. For some reason, THIS meditation class, I just knew, was THE thing that would clear my path and help me start getting better. Before I knew it, my friend was saying "and then you'll see the church on the right." The church? The what? Ok, whatever, I'm already half-way there, might as well keep going. I got there. I was 20 minutes late. I didn't have the $10.00 "donation" for the class. And I had to pee. I walked into the darkened church. Immediately, people began making room for me to sit in a circle of folding metal chairs with them. Before I sat down, I heard my name said. Someone said "hi, it's james' mom!" I know. (i didn't know, it was just what popped into my head to say.) Then, laughingly I explained that I was sorry to have interrupted only to interrupt again, but I needed the bathroom! I was led to the hallway where I would find the bathroom. Sage was burning somewhere, I could smell it. Immediately, this place felt familiar. On my way back to where I thought I should be, I saw an open doorway with one person sitting on the floor. Sage was burning in a shell beside her, a large candle lit in front of her. A sign outside the door read, Meditation Class. Hmmmm. So, this was actually where I was to be tonight. I sent a message through some latecomers back to the other group, letting them know I'd found my class. I went in, prepared for a class on yogic breathing, which goodness knows I need! I got SO much more. And wasn't More what I had been looking for? I introduced myself and was led by the teacher through a few minutes of breath practice, via a c.d. she had playing. After a short time, she abruptly turned off the c.d., explaining that she felt I needed to talk. Well, of course I did. I always need to talk! LOL. But wasn't this a meditation class? Well, there was obviously a reason it was just the two of us there that night. So, we talked. She asked a few leading questions, at which time, she got a very long winded (what, tracee, longwinded? no!) explanation of my experience with God and churches and how I just couldn't be a part of any church, though I whole-heartedly believe in God. I left out the part about how I had clung to a church the last time I was so depressed, and how it did absolutely nothing to help me, except add to my guilt and shame. Well, it ends up that this particular building that I was in that night, housed a Church whose philosophy matches mine exactly. They call themselves Christian, as they are a God-following Church. But, they believe in Spirit Guides, and reincarnation, and in all of the other things I have learned about in the last few years through therapy and books. They believe in manifesting your life through positive thoughts. They believe in and even say they could call themselves a Metaphysical Church. Can you hear my deep breathing sighs now? Ahhhhhh. AND, to top it all off, the meditation teacher is also a holistic practitioner and has offered to help me on my path to continuous healing. I have been learning that part of why I am on this earth this time around is to learn to follow my instincts. Well, I just have to say, good job me!! I did it this time. And my non-Christian-God-loving-healing-self will be at that Church, with it's nursery and it's after-church Yoga class this Sunday. And at that Church again, every Tuesday night that I can make it, for meditation class. And I just have to say thank you to everyone who loves me for taking care of me through this anxious time and for being bold enough to say what needed to be said so that I would find a way to take care of myself. I sure do get tired of doing the work, but just like with my kitchen, it will be so beautiful and sparkly when I'm done!! Oh yeah. The other class I walked into originally? A healing Reiki class, offered also by the Church. Does it get any better!? To Susan: Thank you for inviting me to your church and to your meditation class.