Is it possible not to be a churchgoing person, yet still retain a level of spirituality?
Asking this question among certain members of my family provokes scowls and stares of perplexity, but at this point in my life, spirituality is a mandate: Whether in the form of meditation or prayer, I devote time to it every day. My spirituality was first planted within me as a youth in South Carolina. It was neglected during my 20s and early 30s. Now I’m rediscovering it in everyday moments of divinity, like my union with my wife, the birth of our son, and in my relationships with friends.
Recently, as temperatures began to drop and COVID cases skyrocketed again, my buddies and I coordinated a quick rooftop hang, at a distance and out in the open air—most likely, the last one for some time. While it felt incredible to slam a few beers and tell a few lies with them, it was also frustrating knowing we’d have a winter to get through without each other’s company. And that we’re in this situation because of the lack of compassion and arrogance of some.
At present, life and time spent with friends can feel overwhelmingly restricted, and close contact could literally be a matter of life or death. Six feet of space will be respected during these meetups with homies. Meanwhile, I try to call on my faith in knowing the days ahead will be far greater than the turmoils of the present.
