The Posh Paw Blog

Do you practice religion?

Darling,

Someone once asked me, between sips of lukewarm coffee and a discussion about vintage brooches, “Do you practice religion?”

And I paused — not because I didn’t have an answer, but because I wasn’t sure they were asking the right question.

You see, I was raised on bedtime prayers and Sunday dresses with itchy lace collars. There were hymns I barely understood but sang anyway, and a grandmother whose Bible had more underlining than blank space. Faith, in my childhood, smelled like furniture polish and fresh lilies, and it tasted like communion wafers and after-church lemon cake.

But life has a way of asking harder questions than Sunday school ever did.

So, do I practice religion?

Not in the way I once did. I don’t sit in pews every Sunday, or memorize verses to impress a congregation. I don’t measure my worth in rituals or recitations.

But don’t be mistaken. I do believe.

I believe in quiet mornings and second chances. In the hush before a dance tune drops. In the kindness of strangers and the way sunlight can crack open your soul on a Tuesday afternoon. I believe grace wears many dresses — some stitched in scripture, others hemmed in silence.

These days, my faith lives in the rhythm of ritual, not always religion. Lighting a candle when I need clarity. Whispering thank-you into the steam of my morning coffee. Holding space for someone’s grief without needing to fix it. Saying “I don’t know” and meaning it. That’s my Sunday now.

I believe in reverence, not rigidity. In awe without fear. In something greater, yes — but I no longer feel the need to define it for everyone else.

I don’t believe in shame dressed as doctrine. I don’t believe love should be limited to the approved list. I don’t believe any divine force is keeping a spreadsheet of my sins in one column and my donations in the other.

I do believe in redemption. In laughter as prayer. In dance floors as sanctuaries. In lipstick as armor. In forgiveness that doesn’t require performance. In walking away from what breaks your spirit — even if it’s a building with stained glass.

So, no, I may not practice religion in the traditional sense.

But darling, I practice love.
I practice wonder.
I practice grace — daily, fiercely, and in heels.

And if the divine is real — and I believe it is — then I hope it recognizes that devotion can be worn softly, carried gently, and still change everything.

Stay fabulous,
Luce 💋