It’s more than a building. It’s more than a place. It is not merely a parking lot with a mass of sheetrock and bricks. It holds my past, present and future all at the same time.

When I walk through the doors, numerous smiles and warm hugs welcome me. I connect each radiant smile with years of fellowship and memories with these people. They aren’t my relatives by blood, but by heart.

When a new face finds its way through the door, there is a voluntary welcome that rings out from each and every member.

I’ve grown up here. I will graduate here. I will get married here. My children will do the same.

It is not just letters on a sign or a place I go to out of habit.

“You’re going to graduate, go to college and you’ll forget about this place. It will be just a memory.” I don’t see how that will ever happen. That is my worst nightmare—to lose what I have invested for so many years into this place. This congregation displays immense love for me. They hold me accountable so I don’t forget who I am and who I belong to. Not only am I emotionally attached to these people, but this place left a brand on my heart.  It will never be replaced, even in my college years and beyond.

I am proud to call Pleasant Hill not only my church, but my home.