2. Go to church regularly.

For the first time since Christmas break, I went to Central Presbyterian—my home church. My family and I took the white shuttle bus from the old parking lot of Layton’s Restaurant—as we have done since I was in the ninth grade—and walked up the concrete stairs to the Gothic-style church.

After listening to Pastor Dan’s Mother’s Day sermon and reveling at how angelic the church choir sounded, I played babysitter for eight rambunctious 2-year-olds, seven of which were boys. Mom read them the story of Hannah and Samuel, while I coaxed them to sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” When my sister Rachel put a little cupful of Goldfish on their napkins at snack-time, they closed their little eyes and bent their heads down to pray first before eating.

Today I did something similar: I helped Mom keep track of twenty Kindergarteners at a time while they used black Crayolas to scrawl images of their hands on white paper. I had two tables’ worth of children to watch over, and they weren’t the easiest.

I told Cass three times to keep drawing, but she seemed more intrigued with what McKenzie had to say than with coloring her handprint red. Ben told me that he was left-handed and whispered sweetly that “Barak Obama was left too.” Lexi kept poking Lucas and telling him that he was drawing his hands all wrong. Dylan wanted me to point out exactly what and how he should color.

I was helping Elijah color in his yellow background and asking them questions about middle names when the topic of religion came up. Funny how the most off-limits topics can be so normal for Kindergarteners. I had originally asked Elijah what his middle name was. Ben instead had answered.

“I have two middle names,” he said shyly.

“Oh,” I said. “That’s cool. Are you Catholic?”

He stared at me for a second before nodding slowly.

Elijah looked up at me with his bright blue eyes and smiled. “My daddy is Catholic,” he said. “I’m not, but I cross myself whenever I eat.”

I dropped the yellow crayon and picked up the red one. “I see,” I said carefully. “Do you guys go to church?”

Lexi looked up at me. “No,” she said emphatically, as if church was the last place she’d want to be.

“Me neither,” echoed Lucas.

“I do,” said McKenzie.

“I do sometimes,” said Elijah. “On Wednesdays. But my daddy never goes.”

To be honest, I was shocked by their responses. No matter how tired my parents were on a Sunday morning, they made sure that my sisters and I were wearing frilly dresses and bows and were either playing in the nursery or sitting in the pew listening to a sermon. Missing church was not an option.

To this day, I am thankful for that sacrifice my parents made. It is unbelievable to me to think that some parents would not take their children to learn more about God.

So, I decided upon another thing for my list. I’m not in Sioux Center—and it’s something I do on a weekly basis anyway—but I still think it’s important to remember.

2. Go to church regularly.

I want to make sure that I keep going to church so that I can keep my faith strong and continue down the path that my parents have taught me. I also want to go so that when I someday have children, I will be as dedicated as my parents were toward cultivating young faith. I want my children to pray like the 2-year-olds I watch in nursery and not look at me with surprise when I ask them about church.

One of my English professors said that going to church should become a habit. Even if a person doesn’t want to go, he or she should go anyway. One never knows what he or she will pick up from the sermon or from a song.

I agree whole-heartedly. I’m no saint, but I want to do my best to praise the Lord for the good he has bestowed upon my life. So, this summer, I plan to go to church as often as I can.