I used to think I was all over the place when it came to church.

Raised Catholic by a dad who didn’t trust the changes after Vatican II, we were what some call “CEO Catholics”—Christmas and Easter Only. I took the sacraments at home, guided by his old Baltimore Catechism, not in a classroom with other kids. My grandmother, though? She was Spirit-filled, non-denominational, and absolutely on fire for the Lord. They spoke in tongues, they laid on hands, they worshiped like heaven had already broken open. And then there was my mom—who taught me not just religion, but relationship. Jesus wasn’t a statue or a ritual; He was a friend who stayed close, especially in hard times.

Somehow, I grew up carrying all of it.

Catholic reverence.

Charismatic fire.

A personal relationship with Christ.

For years, I felt like that made me complicated. Like I didn’t belong anywhere fully. I used to envy the people who were raised in one denomination, who could rattle off the church’s doctrine and had never strayed from the same pew. They seemed so sure. So neat. So accepted.

But as I near 58, I’m realizing something: my story isn’t scattered—it’s woven.

I’ve sat in Catholic cathedrals that made me weep just from the holiness in the air.

I’ve worshiped in Baptist sanctuaries and Assembly of God revival nights.

I’ve studied the Bible in churches that felt like lecture halls and lifted my hands in churches that felt like upper rooms.

And you know what? Every single one has shaped me.

I used to hide that—trying to blend in with whatever group I was with. But now? I think it might be my calling. Maybe I don’t fit in a box because I’m called to help others break out of theirs. Maybe I’m meant to be a bridge. A storyteller. A traveler through the house of God, helping women find beauty in the rooms they didn’t even know existed.

This is my pilgrimage. Not to wander aimlessly, but to walk intentionally—remembering the reverence, honoring the fire, and holding fast to the Friend who’s walked with me through every sanctuary and silence.

If you’ve ever felt like you don’t quite belong anywhere… maybe you’re not lost.

Maybe you’re just on your own pilgrimage too.

Let me know if you’d like to add a reflection question, prayer, or Scripture at the end—many readers love that. I’d also be happy to help you design a simple blog header image or intro banner for your Pilgrimage posts if you’d like something visual for your website.