I was raised in a religious household.
It was religious in that my mother took us all to church every Sunday and sat, frowning through the whole service (even as a small child, I was pretty aware that she did not buy into it). And religious in that my father blamed God for everything. The lawnmower would break, and there he’d be, storming around on the lawn, arms upstretched like Tevye the Dairyman, telling the Almighty in no uncertain terms that He owed him new Toro.
In my youth, I bought into it. Or wanted to. Sometimes, am not certain what I believed, or to what extent. But nevertheless, I wore out my leather-bound bible looking for sure-fixes to teenage broken hearts. I kept to a ridiculously strict (and horribly self-righteous) moral code, somewhat out of fear of other-worldly punishment but mostly out of the hope that I’d be rewarded with something. Something better than what I had.
And that something never came. In fact, nothing came. Neither tremendous gifts of fortune — except what I worked for — nor punishments of lightning, pestilence or plague — when I stopped following that long list of arbitrary rules.
Regardless, I still find myself whispering “thank you” when something suddenly falls into place unexpectedly, or small pleas of “help” when my own instict fails me. And whether or not Someone actually hears my outburts or not, doesn’t interest me. Sometimes, it’s just the pause, the time that it takes to seek solace, that does the most good.
Dear Baby Sister,
I’m sorry that when it’s hardest for you, I’m so far away. If I were there, I’d make your tea and run your hot bath. And I was sorry I couldn’t do that for you last night. I hope you know that I may not have all the answers, or even any clever ones, but I love your guts out. And that might just be enough to help you see that even when your own insticts seem to fail you, you will never be a failure. I ::heart:: you more than Oreos.
Love,
H
I bet you’d enjoy Real Live Preacher (http://blogs.salon.com/0001772/). He writes for people like you. Well, he writes for everyone, but he understands people like you very well.
You’re a wonderful sister.
When I had my epiphany that the Jesus thing was a lovely story, it was hard. Almost like a death in some ways. I remember starting to pray while drying my hair one morning and realizing, “What’s the point?”
But sometimes as I drive down the highway I still catch myself talking to God.
I grew up with parents who used church to get a free morning from kids once a week. Dress them up, ship them out the door, go back to bed and read. Church and all my stupid little friends gave me the impression God was an old Santa like figure – twinkling eyes, big gut, long beard and definitely white – in a laziboy in the sky. What a relief to find out it wasn’t true (because the bastard never answered one prayer). Free will and God have since seemed synonymous to me. I get a chuckle when people – regardless of their beliefs – blame this nebulous creature, God, for the state of human created situations. “If God really existed, there wouldn’t be starving people.” That kind of comment. It’s cute and moronic, like the average bungling idiot.
You know, I still really believe all those things. And I think that, though God’s wish would be that we all work toward doing the right things, He appreciates a heart that says “thank you” and “help” a whole lot more than one that blindly follows a list of rules. It’s a deeper understanding and a real faith.
More than oreos? Your sister is lucky indeed.
(I bet she’s waiting for you to stop calling her “Baby Sister”)
So funny you should mention all this when my Christian Identity/ blowoff Class just finished writing our “Spiritual Autobiographies.” It’s actually an interesting thing to consider.. how exactly you got to the place you are spiritually.
Having read the comments, it’s interesting to see how the post itself is made up of two completely different parts. I reacted to the latter because it was last while others reacted to the religious part. To put them both together, I think that we could all say that in times of need, what we want most is a warm loving human being next to us than an all powerful entity our tiny human minds have a hard time with.