The preschool was adjacent to the church and I would whisper as we grew closer to the sanctuary. I would hold my mom’s hand, tightly and peak between the heavy double doors. When she would let go, I would run down the aisle, the light shining through the tall blue stained glass windows. I would count the pews in my peripheral vision. I remember being too scared to go up all the steps of the alter. I remember a three year old version of myself staring wide-eyed into the blue light.