The small church room was filled with small children, all praising the Lord with songs that sounded like Christian Kidz Bop. A couple of them played with the stray balloons with too little helium in them. My cousins were holding hands with other kids and I could hear the chattering of their noise. But I wasn’t singing, I wasn’t playing, I wasn’t holding hands. I was just there. 

Growing up I've questioned many things, but my religion has always been the number 1 struggle for me. I just don’t know where I stand. When I was younger, like 4 to 8 years old I would be confident in telling you that I was Christian. Now I am not so sure. I had been raised with Christian values and the bible, but my family didn’t attend church. I never paid any attention to this, because I thought believing in the bible and God was enough to make us “true’ Christians. 

The day it started getting confusing for me was back in the bright and joyful spring of 2016. My aunt had invited my mom (her sister), and the rest of my family to go to her church for a community festival event since it was Easter week. My parents agreed to go, and though I remember being excited because this meant I’d be hanging out with my cousins, I was nervous because I hadn’t been to church before. But I guess the church where I was baptized counts. When we got there it was VERY obvious that the kids at this church had been going there since they were small. Everyone knew each other, chattering in high pitched voices, but then there was me. I remember kids just either awkwardly saying hi to me or completely ignoring me. It was awkward for me too! The kids were all grouped up in a large beige room decorated with colorful balloons and streamers, with sugary snacks and loud 2010’s pop music before the sermon began. But I just stood in the corner as everyone else was having a good time. I WANTED to have a good time, but I stayed there stiff as a rock. So I clinged to my cousin like a lost lamb (kinda weird because she is 3 years younger than me), because she was the only kid I knew there. I spent most of my time by the snack area, munching on a plain stuffed cheese pizza and drinking too sugary fruit punch in a Mickey Mouse cup.

“Isn’t this fun?” my cousin chirped as she sat with me eating a big pizza slice.

“Yeah it’s fun!”I replied with a higher pitched tone than hers, I just lacked the honesty. 

When we came back from the church I felt very oddly conflicted. I was-and still am- pretty shy, and I knew I was gonna have trouble talking to kids I didn’t know. But I didn't think I’d feel THIS alienated, or maybe I did, I can’t exactly remember. 

To this day I still have issues with my religious identity, and I prefer to use the term “spiritual” rather than “religious” when discussing my beliefs. I guess I’m a confused sheep, the black sheep, in a pasture full of sure sheep. But maybe there’s other black sheep who feel confused too, and maybe there’s pasture sheep who seek me out regardless of my differences.