My son says he wants to go to church. I didn’t expect that to hit as hard as it did.

Because someone from my childhood just died—and it brought everything back. Not the good parts. The gaps. The contradictions. The way words and actions never lined up.

She talked about faith. Lived something else.

That disconnect stuck with me longer than any sermon ever did.

So now I’m sitting here, trying to separate belief from behavior. Trying to figure out what’s worth passing on—and what isn’t.

Maybe faith isn’t the problem.

Maybe it’s the people who wear it like armor and forget to live it.