Growing up in religion

Religion was never a big deal in my house growing up.

We went to church on Easter and Christmas Eve and said grace before every big family meal. I prayed, and still do, before bed that the next day be as good or better then the last.

I used to pray before each inning of baseball I pitched. I would cross with my right foot behind the mound and ask for guidance in getting through the inning (like that would be high on the to-do list).

One morning, during an 8 a.m. game, I got lit up like a Christmas tree. When the coach came to pull me in the first inning, the only explanation I could offer up was that God must have slept in.

But I never had religion forced upon me. I was never told to read the bible or was dragged to church every Sunday.

That's why I find stories about people who were raised by a strict religion fascinating.

Some people have great experiences while others don't.

I've known families where religion is a deep bond they hold between everyone. I've also seen a family go through a rough stretch because one member began rejecting his religion.

At the end of the day, it seems like a silly reason to break your family up over. That's why I'm glad my family raised me somewhere in the middle.

Church, I'll see you on Easter.