Ha! I was raised in Ohio and Southern Baptist, as well. Hence...I am here now!

I never minded going to my grandparents' church or my aunt's. They had beautiful stained glass windows. Our church at home looked like a gym.
I also liked the singing. My mother sang like an angel so when the hymns started, folks would turn around to see where that voice came from. I loved that.
We were catholic, though. So masses were just droning Latin and half-hearted sermons. It took about an hour.
The only downside was that my sisters and I had to wear dresses, gloves and veils. Yeah, I'm old enough that there was still a rule that women had to cover their hair in church when I was a kid.

Sounds like a movie

Nice story! Grandparents of the era!

Good for you remembering the good and letting the rest go!

My extended family will never know my depth of gratitude and admiration for their not attending or sending me to a church. Middle of the road politically, respected by their communities, educated for their time, moral beyond reproach ...they make me proud.

Oh yeah. Fucking tent revivals with crying and gnashing of teeth. I saw a couple as a teen - not my parents doing. My parents didn't go to church and as a kid I went to a Methodist one with my sisters. I always asked the hard questions; I believe they were just as happy when I stopped coming.
As an adult, I asked my Mother once why, she having been one as a kid, didn't raise us as Southern Baptist. She said, with her still apparent drawl, "I never wanted to inflict that upon you (us kids)."

Been there.

I wish that I had been able to spend more time with extended family.

My grandmother on my mothers side was very religious but she never ever made me go to church, although she went. I remember her as the kindest person in my otherwise chaotic early life from birth until she died when I was seven. Those years she was my sanctuary.
My other grandmother was just like the devil incarnated, jealous and two faced.

Your childhood experience sounds similar to mine. My parents were not religious, but I spent a lot of time in the company of my maternal grandparents in the tiny town where they lived. My paternal grandfather lived in the same tiny town. When with my maternal grandparents, I attended their non-denominational fire-and-brimstone fundamentalist Christian church (similar to Baptists but with less water) and with my paternal grandfather, his one-room wooden church in the country, built by his father who had fought in the Union army. Just as much fire and brimstone to be had there. I also attended 7 years' worth of vacation Bible school at the in-town church. The experience ended up being both detrimental and beneficial to me. Detrimentally, I believe the spare-no-graphics Old Testament stories probably traumatized my little pre-school mind to some degree. But, beneficially, by the time I hit my teens I had a more thorough knowledge of the Bible than most religious adults, and that knowledge is useful as all hell when arguing with believers, now, or even just being able to instantly note why they are wrong. I can turn their own tables on them. Debating is not a thing I do, but it feels good to know I could easily win one. Meanwhile my childhood was a pretty rosy and healthy one, and I basked and thrived in the unconditional love in my family.

I know that every time someone yells at me, I change my mind

Yeah the revival stuff is meant to reignite a fire in people, one which burns out a day or two later, in my experience. This brings up a question though: Is the holy spirit the source of their passion? If so, what does it say that their passion has died? Doesn't that prove that there's nothing there? If a person's passion for christ dies as quickly as their passion for yoga or quilting, perhaps their religion is just another hobby, as opposed to to a true belief?

Speaks volumes doesn’t it!

my parents werent churchgoers either - but they stuffed me on that southern baptist joy bus in Odessa every sunday morning to get rid of me. that place was just hate, hell, fire and brimstone.

Hold onto the memories! We have a way of sifting the gold from the dross!

I remember visiting my Nanna in Country Victoria, Australia. The pastor was whipping the congregation into a fury, going on about devils walking the streets of Sydney; he was on about the gay Mardi Gras. I lost a fair bit of respect for their church over that, but it was my Nanna’s community.
I went to the Sydney Mardi Gras a few years later, and it was great and much more loving and inclusive than Nanna’s so called Christian church

All my life i have felt that it is the land we exist in and the people we interact with that have the most influence on us, more than any indoctrination of church or school. But that may only be true for me. I am glad you had a good childhood.