Sarah's Story - Sunday Morning

Sarah pulled into the Unity parking lot fifteen minutes early, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. She'd driven past this building on Woodland three times in the last month, always finding a reason not to stop. Too busy. Not ready. What if it's weird?

But this Sunday, something was different. Maybe it was the empty nest that had been echoing for six months now. Maybe it was the realization that she'd spent fifty-two years believing what she was told to believe, and she wasn't sure anymore what was actually hers.

The woman at the door smiled—not the aggressive "we've been waiting for you,” a smile Sarah had learned to dread, but something gentler. Real.

"First time?" she asked.

Sarah nodded.

"Perfect. Come as you are. Sit wherever feels right. Participate as much or as little as you want. And if you have questions afterward, I'm Jenny. I'll be the one with all the answers." She paused, grinned. "Just kidding. I'll be the one with coffee and probably more questions than you."

Sarah laughed. The knot in her chest loosened, just a little.

What She Found Inside

The space wasn't what she expected. No stained glass depicting judgment day. No crosses looming with the weight of guilt she'd carried since childhood. Instead, light poured through simple windows. People chatted easily, genuinely. A woman with silver hair and a rainbow bracelet hugged a younger couple. An older man in jeans set up chairs, humming.

The service began with music—not the hymns of her youth, but something that felt like breathing. The minister spoke about love. Not the conditional kind, not the "love the sinner, hate the sin" kind that had driven her daughter away three years ago. Just... love. As a principle. As a practice. As the only thing that really matters.

"We don't claim to have all the answers," the minister said. "In fact, we're pretty sure the questions are more sacred than the answers. We're here to explore together, to support each other, to honor the divine in whatever form it takes for you—and to trust that your path is exactly right for you."

Sarah felt something crack open inside her. Something that had been locked for a very long time.

After the Service

Jenny found her during gathering after the service, as promised.

"So?" she asked, "What did you think?"

"I think..." Sarah paused, surprised by the tears in her eyes. "I think I've been looking for this for twenty years and didn't know it."

Jenny nodded. "I hear that a lot. What brought you in today?"

And Sarah told her. About the empty nest. About the daughter who stopped calling after Sarah's church told her she was going to hell for loving who she loved. About the questions that had been building for decades—questions about suffering and justice and why some people got to speak for God and others didn't. About feeling like she had to choose between her brain and her soul.

"You don't have to choose here," Jenny said quietly. "Your questions are welcome. Your doubts are welcome. Your brilliant, complicated, still-figuring-it-out self is welcome."

"What about my daughter?" Sarah asked. "Would she be welcome?"

Jenny smiled. "All means all, Sarah. No exceptions."

Sarah, Six Months Later

Sarah sits in the same seat she chose that first Sunday, but everything else has changed. Her daughter visited last month—her first trip home in three years. She came to Sunday service, sat between Sarah and her partner, and afterward told Sarah, "I'm glad you found this place, Mom. You seem... lighter."

Sarah is lighter. The questions that once felt like burdens now feel like companions. The doubts that once brought shame now bring curiosity. The spiritual hunger that drove her through that door six months ago has been fed—not with answers, but with permission to keep seeking.

She's made friends. Real ones. Women who understand what it's like to rebuild your life and your faith in midlife. People who don't judge her questions or her journey.

Last week, she saw a woman sitting alone in the parking lot, hands gripping the steering wheel, clearly working up the courage to come inside.

Sarah walked over and tapped on the window.

"First time?" she asked, smiling.

The woman nodded.

"Perfect," Sarah said. "Come as you are!”

This Could Be Your Story

Maybe you're sitting in your car right now, reading this on your phone, wondering if this place is real?

It is!

Maybe you've been hurt by religion and you're not sure you can trust a spiritual community again.

We understand. Many of us have been there.

Maybe you're not sure what you believe anymore, and you're afraid that makes you unwelcome.

It doesn't. Your uncertainty is welcome here. Your questions are sacred here. Your journey—wherever it's taking you—is honored here.

Maybe you're looking for community but you're tired of having to pretend, to perform, to be someone you're not.

You can stop pretending here. Your authentic self is not just welcome—it's celebrated.

Maybe you're reading this and thinking, "This sounds too good to be true."

We get that. Come see for yourself. No pressure. No judgment. No strings attached.

Just a community of seekers, questioners, and believers of all kinds, trying to live with love, grow in wisdom, and support each other on the journey.

Who We Are, Simply Put

We are Unity of the White Mountains.

We are a spiritual community in Lakeside, Arizona, part of the worldwide Unity movement.

We are people who believe that love is stronger than fear, that questions are sacred, and that all paths to the divine deserve honor.

We are imperfect people creating a space where everyone can explore spirituality on their own terms.

We are a refuge for the spiritually curious, the religiously wounded, and the lifelong seekers.

We are a home for people who've been looking for exactly this kind of community—even if they didn't know it existed.

We are here, with open doors and open hearts, whenever you're ready.

Come as you are. Believe what you believe. Belong anyway.

That's who we are!

Your Invitation

This isn't a sales pitch. It's an invitation.

To explore. To question. To connect. To belong.

To find out if this community might be the spiritual home you've been seeking.

There's a seat waiting for you—not because we need to fill it, but because you might need a place to sit while you figure out what you believe, who you are, and where you're going.

We'll be here when you're ready.

With coffee, questions, and unconditional welcome.

Unity of the White Mountains
Where all paths are honored and all people are welcome