The moment

when was it
when the desire of my need became
the realization of my truth
that I belonged?

was it when
that first day
the welcomer at the entrance told me
many of the congregation
did not believe in God?

or was it as
a lutheran gentleman answered all
my naive questions
with patient grace?

perhaps it was
when my son told me so quietly
"there is no judgement
in this place",

or that the
first recorded sermon I listened to
was placed into my hands
by a buddhist,

or that Sunday
when ice and snow kept many home
and by a wiccan I was blessed
for bringing food to share.

maybe it was
when I knew the pastor was an athiest
who preached so spiritually about
his own humanity?

or perhaps instead
the young man standing up in service
to share his joy of our acceptance
of his homosexuality,

or it was
the first pot-luck we brought food to
sitting quietly, listening to talk
and children playing safe?

it could have been
all these things
but no
the moment came
in service after the children
acted out a story of
the first village
and a pagan woman
red haired, silver starred and glowing bright
danced with simple purest joy
arms raised
face alive with laughter
circling
as small hands drummed us in
to thanksgiving feast...

Yeah
that was it.