My mom stood in front of me: “Do you want to go in?”

“Um, sure.”

The church was absolutely breathtaking on the outside. It had an old rusty look that reminded me of a seven-year-old dressing up for “look like an old person day” at school. But the dedicated simplicity of the design fit in with the Jesuit College look--all about what you are there for and not the flash. It was a welcomed change from the cold and mix matched architecture of the rest of Creighton. Until that point, I loved the college but I dreaded the thought of actually being in a church that I had nothing to do with. I don’t believe in God: never have.
All that came to mind were the black and white pictures of Grandma’s childhood church. Those were the only clues that I had to what waited for me inside. My feet dragged me up the stone steps and through the door. 
The inside was right out of Grandma’s pictures. Gorgeous stained glass was imprinted with the images of Jesus, Mary, and many other figures in the bible. The altar was gold and a pearl white: right out of a dream. Grandma explained the Stations of the Cross to me, but seeing 3D models delivered a message. Wooden beams on the high ceiling fit together in a way that would make Leonardo da Vinci proud. I now truly understood what my mom meant when she explained that she paid more attention to the church than the service.

Yet I was confused about the purpose of the tub near the entrance of the church. “What is this water for?”
“It’s holy water. As you come in the church, you put your fingers in it, and then you make the sign of the cross.” 

We heard a sudden noise in the back of the church; I was terrified that a priest was about to be in the same room as me. The last thing I wanted to do was meet a priest on top of everything else: comfort zone had already come and gone. I then retreated to the nice, safe and normal outside.