So, many people know that its been almost a year since a board at the church I attended for more than 20 years fired me from my job in their preschool. They showed me the door without talking to me or getting my side of things. I knew there was trouble, but I had no one to help me because everybody was either sick or caring for a sick person or a nutball. In their termination letter, they said the problem started the year before but they never said anything to me, just tossed me under the bus.
This behavior seemed to be the antithesis of what I felt was the point of going to church, that is: to learn how to exist in the world in a Christ-like way. Jesus is well known to be an advocate of helping and supporting the underdog. He spent time with hookers, lepers, women, children, and nutballs (people posessed by evil). He was supportive of people who were treated unfairly. He wasn't just a really Good Guy, He was the Son of God for Pete's sake!
So when my church treated me so poorly and gave me no recourse, I quit that bitch and began looking for a new place to worship. See, I've always loved church - being in a church gave me such a deep feeling of peace, even if I was just touring a landmark like a mission here in California, or Notre Dame in Paris. When I was a kid I begged my parents to take me and I loved it when they did. Plus, the music was so pretty...
I researched various religions. Tossed out any that espoused idiocy - the earth is more than 6,000 years old, Jeez. After watching the news and reading the paper, I decided not to embrace any religion that put pedophiles in charge of children, encouraged people to kill in the name of God, or put the religion's needs over the needs of people. By this time, I'd rejected almost all of the world's faiths.
The fact is that I like being Christan. I believe in God and I love Jesus. But, to paraphrase John Fugelsang (great writer/hilarious comedian) some of His fan clubs give me pause. Like my friend who finally (after 20 years!) divorced her emotionally abusive douchebag husband and had her clergyman berated her for "not trying". Her hub was not the only douche. And the church that gave a woman in her 30s a hard time for having a baby outside of marriage. She couldn't seem to meet a good man and she heard the clock ticking in her uterus...
Which brings me to this weekend and my last straw. The hub and I were at a party, and also in attendance were my friend's son and his fiance with their new baby. They are getting married next month and they asked the hub to perform the ceremony. I wondered why not a professional? I mean, the hub has been a proud minister in the Universal Life Church since he sent in $5 in Middle School, but he's a park ranger by trade. Turns out they took their 3 1/2 month old daughter to her family's church to talk about christening and the dude with the backward collar said: "It would be a waste of water" to baptize the baby. Let me repeat that..."it would be a waste of water" to baptize that paragon if innocence.
I thought the point of baptism was to welcome a person into the family of God. So her mother wasn't confirmed and her parents rarely attend church, why won't the baby be welcome in God's family? I think Jesus would have welcomed her. I also think Jesus would have welcomed the fatherless baby and his mother. And I think Jesus would have encouraged the abused woman and (in His spare time)I think He would have talked to me about my problem and let me work in a different position at the school if I couldn't adapt.
I thank God every day for all my gifts, including, but not limited to, my awesome family, terrific friends, food, a place to live, good health and my sense of humor. All of which have gotten me through the hard times. I thought I needed church to feel close to God but maybe not. I've always thought that calling a building "God's house" was a little disingenuous since God created all outdoors and churches are built by people. Well intentioned people, but people nonetheless. I think I'll spend my time worshipping outside. Waste of water, my ass!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Bye Bye, Baby...
This past week, the hub and I were on vacation. We spent several days with his pseudo siblings (long, not very interesting story) in Las Vegas. We had a great time, floated in a beautiful pool, ate gourmet food, and generally had a really fun time. Of course, in our typical fashion, it couldn't be a vacation without something weird happening. We were in the Hofbrauhouse in Vegas (Which is an exact replica of the one in Munich) singing, dancing (the Chicken Dance - but it counts...)eating, drinking and generally kicking up our middle aged heels when the hub's phone rang.
He went out into the foyer to answer it and when he didn't come right back I knew something was up. I went to see what was going on and when I found him he looked up and mouthed the words "Lucy died." Then we went back to the party.
Lucy was our 15 year old Border Collie mix. When the kids were 10 and 12 I decided we needed a puppy. The hub and I searched and searched until finally we stumbled upon a baby Coon Hound which I fell in love with and named Lucy. Turns out the hub had some reservations vis a vis the really loud howl Coon Hounds issue instead of a bark.
So we went elsewhere and found a baby Border Collie mix which I fell in love with and named Lucy. This time it stuck. She was 10 weeks old, really cute and shy. The whole family loved her and she was the perfect dog. Lucy was so smart that she trained herself to sit, stay, heel and throw a ball. Heck, she probably would have cleaned the house and cooked dinner if she'd had thumbs.
We weren't sure of her birthday but we decided it was June 18 which coincided with my birthday. That made us Geminis so we understood each other. We had our bitch days and our other days we were warm and fuzzy. Of course on her bitch days, she had the excuse that she was actually a bitch. The other days, well, of course she was warm and fuzzy - she was a dog, for Pete's sake.
When we heard she'd died, we didn't want her to go to the vet where they'd just toss her in the trash and then send me the Rainbow Bridge poem. They sent it to me after Ernie died and I thought "Lame. Nice, but lame". Then I got to the part about him coming to meet me as I crossed the bridge and I dissolved into a blithering puddle of weeping jelly. I did not want to go there again.
My poor, brave sister was the one who found Lucy when she came to feed the pets while we were away. She called and the hub told her to double bag the body and leave her in the garage. We were banking on the weather being cool enough to keep her relatively fresh until we got home three days later.
We reasoned that Lucy had died apparently peacefully in her sleep. She had kindly waited until we were gone so we wouldn't be upset (Yeah, it seems a tad anthropomorphic, but you didn't know Lucy). She also left a whole bunch of little hairs around the house to remember her by. Plus, she was 105 in people years!
I was cool about her death until I got home. I miss her, but there's not the sense that she was too young to die. Still, her absence leaves a hole. And there's nobody to clean the dishes before they go in the dishwasher. Our small dog has taken to giving us the stink eye and peeing in the living room. I sense the possible need for a puppy shrink.
Everybody loved Lucy. I found myself consoling many of my neighbors. We had a wake at 5 Guys burgers. I had fries in Lucy's honor. Lucy would have wanted me to. In fact Lucy would have made them for me. If she'd had thumbs. Then she'd have licked the plate clean after I finished them. I miss Lucy...
He went out into the foyer to answer it and when he didn't come right back I knew something was up. I went to see what was going on and when I found him he looked up and mouthed the words "Lucy died." Then we went back to the party.
Lucy was our 15 year old Border Collie mix. When the kids were 10 and 12 I decided we needed a puppy. The hub and I searched and searched until finally we stumbled upon a baby Coon Hound which I fell in love with and named Lucy. Turns out the hub had some reservations vis a vis the really loud howl Coon Hounds issue instead of a bark.
So we went elsewhere and found a baby Border Collie mix which I fell in love with and named Lucy. This time it stuck. She was 10 weeks old, really cute and shy. The whole family loved her and she was the perfect dog. Lucy was so smart that she trained herself to sit, stay, heel and throw a ball. Heck, she probably would have cleaned the house and cooked dinner if she'd had thumbs.
We weren't sure of her birthday but we decided it was June 18 which coincided with my birthday. That made us Geminis so we understood each other. We had our bitch days and our other days we were warm and fuzzy. Of course on her bitch days, she had the excuse that she was actually a bitch. The other days, well, of course she was warm and fuzzy - she was a dog, for Pete's sake.
When we heard she'd died, we didn't want her to go to the vet where they'd just toss her in the trash and then send me the Rainbow Bridge poem. They sent it to me after Ernie died and I thought "Lame. Nice, but lame". Then I got to the part about him coming to meet me as I crossed the bridge and I dissolved into a blithering puddle of weeping jelly. I did not want to go there again.
My poor, brave sister was the one who found Lucy when she came to feed the pets while we were away. She called and the hub told her to double bag the body and leave her in the garage. We were banking on the weather being cool enough to keep her relatively fresh until we got home three days later.
We reasoned that Lucy had died apparently peacefully in her sleep. She had kindly waited until we were gone so we wouldn't be upset (Yeah, it seems a tad anthropomorphic, but you didn't know Lucy). She also left a whole bunch of little hairs around the house to remember her by. Plus, she was 105 in people years!
I was cool about her death until I got home. I miss her, but there's not the sense that she was too young to die. Still, her absence leaves a hole. And there's nobody to clean the dishes before they go in the dishwasher. Our small dog has taken to giving us the stink eye and peeing in the living room. I sense the possible need for a puppy shrink.
Everybody loved Lucy. I found myself consoling many of my neighbors. We had a wake at 5 Guys burgers. I had fries in Lucy's honor. Lucy would have wanted me to. In fact Lucy would have made them for me. If she'd had thumbs. Then she'd have licked the plate clean after I finished them. I miss Lucy...
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