It turns out I wasn’t exaggerating about Plymouth UMC.
I was late. Sometimes when I’m late for church, I look at the sign out front mocking me and drive on past. I know what happens when you’re late for church. Church people like the back pews, so often there’s no seat that you can slide into unobtrusively. People stare. If they don’t know you they stare harder. If you drop something or clunk against the wooden bench, they glare. I know that may not be what they intend, but that’s how it feels.
It did not happen that way at First United Methodist Church of Plymouth, Iowa. I arrived late and followed the voices to the basement worship space. It wasn’t the sanctuary as I expected but a warm, comfortable room graced by a large wooden cross, flowers and plants, and the sweet smell of coffee. There was an empty table right by the door, so I slid in as quietly as possible. I had…
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