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Will you pass the butter please?

Right now it is 8:04pm and my stomach is grumbling. My father is downstairs and my mother is out with some women from the Salvation Army. Several years ago, I left a pentecostal church called the bridge, to attend a little church here in Markham that has been around ever since I can imagine. It was the only Salvation Army church in the town of Markham and some way I ended up attending it with my mother after I was baptised as an adult. The building still sits at the corner of 16th Avenue and Mcowan, but there isn't any congregation that meets there anymore. As far as I know the only Salvation Army in York Region is in Richmond Hill, and that is where the congregation from Markham went. I did not go.

There were many reasons why I did not go to Richmond Hill, and some of them are as follows. I do not drive anymore, so transportation was a problem. I am assuming that no one that went there would of been able to pick me up and take me to church. My mom made it clear that it was an inconvenience for her to be my transportation every Sunday to and from the Salvation Army in Richmond Hill, so I felt persecuted in a sense because I was left church less. My only option was to go back to the Catholic church that I grew up in, but I had been learning about doctrine and I was scared to expose myself to a church that I no longer believed what they preached. Enter Harvest Bible Chapel I had found a new church home.....and I was free from my mother because she knew it was a real church and she couldn't hide behind the mask of churchianity anymore, neither could my dad who is still downstairs right now with a full stomach.....mm mm pass the butter.

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