Tucked in a pocket of my purse is a rosary made of decorative metal beads. I bought it in Germany a couple of years ago at a kiosk outside Wieskirche, a church in the middle of a meadow.

I don't pray the Rosary, but I keep it with me. And when something particularly stressful or upsetting happens, I take it out.

It's not a charm that erases all the bad things in the world, but it connects me to my faith and reminds me that God is love. No matter what happens, He's always there.

Typing those words gives me both comfort and a sense of uneasiness. The uneasiness comes from so blatantly announcing that I believe in and have faith in God.

Religion ranks at the bottom of water-cooler conversation, probably seven or eight topics below the "Where do you think Johnny Depp will stay when he films in Crown Point?" discussion.

It's safer that way.

What's unfortunate is that religion isn't higher up on the list among people my age, 20-somethings.

We talk openly about politics, significant others and sex. But ask someone, "Do you go to church?" and the conversation grinds to a halt.

Those who dare enter the discussion usually explain what turned them away from church, whether it's wanting to break free from a feeling of obligation or being ashamed of sex-abuse scandals.

And then there's me, often the lone voice saying, "I like my church."

The priest gives thoughtful homilies, and I like to stand in the back and watch parents chase after runaway children or pacify them with watermelon-flavored suckers. It means those families feel at home there. That's how it's supposed to be, like an extended family.

When I tell people about a great homily or that the songs from Mass reminded me of my childhood parish, they smile politely and move on to the next topic. I assure them we have plenty of people at church, and I'm not trying to recruit.

Sometimes they look surprised. I've had a couple people say, "You go to church?" with the same tone they'd use to say, "You ate a kitten for breakfast?"

Like I'm crazy. Like, I'm an educated person who uses logic to sort through life, yet I'm foolish enough to believe in something we can't see.

But I can't imagine living without faith. It gives me strength and hope.

I have a few friends who still go to church regularly. We don't talk about it. It's just understood.

So this week, I asked my friend Mary why she goes to church. After she got married, Mary returned to her childhood parish. She said she sees people she knew all those years ago, and she feels like she belongs.

I've known her for 15 years but never bothered to ask that question.

We need to start talking more about God, faith and religion instead of keeping those topics tucked away like my rosary.

The opinions are solely those of the writer. Reach her at vrenderman@nwitimes.com