Finding a Church Family

A handful of people have steadily been inquiring whether we have found a church home here yet. The comforting thing is that I know all of these individual questions have been based in love and genuine curiosity, not judgement, as my younger self would've inferred. The answer is no. And we're also not looking.

To be honest, originally we avoided looking for a place of worship because we were not ready to dive into the social whirl that can entail. We are solitary people. And in some ways this is a vacation from focusing our attention outward. Our most treasured times are spent as a family of four, aimlessly wandering the streets and paths of Vienna, or those snuggles and snippets of conversation that happen in the precious few minutes before conceding it is time to roll out of bed and start the day.

We have no desire, no inclination and no God-lead draw to seek Him in a body of believers here. And if He's cool with that, then I am too.

Instead my challenge, at least, seems to find how to be still and know He is God--to store up my treasures in heaven and to place absolute trust in Him.

Most days, I look forward to nap time, which for me is a time of rest and meditation...many days accompanied by some tea and the comfort of my Bible. But this week I was not on my A-game; I felt lost, like my grip on the little slice of normal I had carved out was slipping. My thoughts were scattered. My house was a mess and my girls pulled through it with me with incredible grace.

So, Monday as I slipped out of the apartment,  leaving my dears all slumbering peacefully, and with no particular destination in mind, I decided my path would be divinely chosen (like it isn't already, but throw me a bone). Unsurprisingly, as I do every week, I started my journey at Stephansdom--it just seems the height of rudeness not to give the old girl the time of day when I'm already out and about.  I walked until I found unfamiliar streets and moved wherever the spirit led me...to an area of town I haven't yet graced with my presence...and eventually there sat Cafe Prückel,  beckoning me to it's worn and tattered seats.

If my mother were to see this place, she'd describe it as looking well loved,  which was how she also described our most treasured stuffed animals with matted hair, missing eyeballs and lumpy stuffing; this is how I view Prückel. A place worn down with the affection of devoted guests and regulars alike.

And this is where I discover I find my church family; sitting next to students pouring over textbooks, a man who looks like he has taken up residence, typing on his computer and the rest of the smoking, coffee drinking folk with worn lines of life marking their faces. Here I can be still and know that He is God. Here, I sit in true solitude in His presence...and pray that He will keep me there when I feel restless, when I am overwhelmed, when I am in the throws of rapture or simply content deep within every fiber of my being.

No, when I have Him and have faith in walking His path, I know it's not time to devote ourselves to a new church here yet. We are finding a place to worship in our hearts, in the moments of chaos and the occasional breath of relaxation...He is faithful. He provides. And He is always in my cup of coffee.