As bedtime neared Kajal chose her book for the evening. She clutched a book on the history and highlights of Boston. She ran to the bed clasping it to her chest. Mommy, I miss Boston. Would you read me a special page? Of course... which page did you pick?

She held the book out to me opened to the pages about the Old North Church.

I miss our friends, Mommy and I miss our church, I really miss our church.

Me too, Kajal.

I remember when a Church was just a place that you went because your mother told you to. Or a place you went hoping to find something that no matter how hard you searched, you found nothing at all. That changed for me when I met the members of the Old North. When the beauty and history of the building was simply the backdrop for the love of a congregation who welcomed Kajal and I with open arms. I learned what a community could be with their help and I gained the courage to take the steps I needed to take to become a single mother. My faith in God grew as I saw his love reflected in their faces as they welcomed my child home.

I read Kajal about Paul Revere and we gazed at the beautiful pictures of the church we still call our home. I remembered holding her in my arms as she was baptized and she remembered all those whose kindness taught her what being cherished was all about.