King of the Hill didn’t change my life, but I will admit that last night when James and I joined our small Methodist church in our tiny little town, I caught a fleeting glimpse of Hank Hill passing through my mind. I’m sure Hank Hill’s eulogy would highlight his love for Ladybird (his dog), his complete devotion to propane and propane accessories, and his devout Methodism.
Hank Hill cracks me up, but he didn’t really have anything to do with my decision to join the Methodist church last night.
That came about as a result of discovering that I no longer fit well into my former denominational mold, years of developing my own private relationship with God, and after experiencing the love and support of both James and our fellow church members.
Having been raised primarily in a very conservative, and at times fundamentalist denomination, I gained some wonderful spiritual…
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