Back to Church

This is clip art, not the place we attended

This could get to be a habit.  We found the experience uplifting last week, so we went back to the same place, accompanied by Cliff's next-door sister.  I'm not looking for brownie points here, but I wanted my readers to know that by doing the series of entries on why I don't go to church much any more, I woke up to the fact that we had no good reason to NOT go.  That's just how it worked for me.  This is probably the last mention I'll make of church attendance, unless it's in passing.  
There were fifty-two present today, so it isn't a big place.  It seems to be an independent denomination; the preacher used to be Methodist.   It appears most of the members have come from the other churches in town.
Nobody invited me to this church.  I wanted to try it because it's nearby and I know some of the people there, so we weren't walking into a crowd of strangers.  
I have one neighbor down the road who sometimes invites me to another church for special events and such, but otherwise I've had no invitations to any local places of worship.  Would it have made a difference if I'd been invited someplace?  I don't think so, but I really don't know.  Since I've been a church-goer for a lot of my life, I am not uncomfortable walking into any church for the first time, as long as everybody isn't too fancy-looking.  
I had actually planned to visit the other local churches some more before we settled in, but I like this one really well.  Cliff does too (because it doesn't last long, he says), and I think his sister enjoyed it.  
Besides, I was asked if I'd play my guitar and sing sometime; this is the first time anybody's wanted to hear me sing in fifteen years.  Here's how the conversation went:  
"Don't you sing and play guitar?"  
"At home." 
"But I thought you sang and played sometimes for people."
"I used to."  
And then two neighbors from across the road turned around and joined in the arm-twisting.  
Maybe I'd better get to work on the finger-callouses.