My eldest son does not go to church. The last time he went, it was his little brother's baptism - about 5 years ago - with just family, and he still left the church a bit early. there is something about the cavernous spaces in a church, and the music and sitting and standing that is too much.
Today, he and I went berry picking. The younger two are at a water park and so he and I set out to do something special. When I asked what he wanted to do, going to the blueberry farm was his choice. We drove out and started picking under a blue sky, with a zephyr keeping things cool. We played name games as we picked. We competed for who would be the champion berry picker. we debated whether the word wizened was pronounced with an "iz" sound in the middle or an "eez" sound. We picked nine pounds of berries.
As we were gathering the fruits, I realized that this is his church. It doesn't matter if he never makes his Confirmation in the Catholic Church, or if he never knows what the Council of Trent or Vatican II were. He knows what is good through experience. He sees what glory there is in the time he spends out in nature, relaxed and happy and without any of the anxiety that impedes the rest of his time.