There is no way home, home is the way.

Thich Nhat Hanh would understand why i followed Father Longenecker's advice and went back to singing God's glory in church.

I sincerely married in church, and i sincerely made sure my kids were baptized. I grew up in a much simpler world, where mass was joyfully celebrated every Sunday in my suburban public primary school gym. The place was packed with my schoolmates and their families. That's where i first tasted the joy of losing my voice in the choir’s music, singing God’s glory.

I kept going to church every Sunday until maybe my second year in med school. Then i gradually became more and more distant. By the time my kids should have had their first “age of reason” sacraments, i didn't have it in me to bend over backwards to reconcile medicine, feminism and my religion. I kept on praying to God, but declared myself agnostic.

After a decade or so, the fruits of this easy spiritual path started to really show.

They stink, and they taste like despair.

Last week i found out where my local church is, and although i felt a bit silly, awkward and embarrassed, i went back to Sunday mass. I did it again yesterday.

I am so grateful for the words, the music, the ritual gestures that came back to me like sap rushes up a frozen tree when it is kissed by the spring sun.

I had missed the kiss of God. In simpler times, it was obvious that i had a soul, and that what i did with it mattered.

I hope it still does.