Category Archives: Religimcal Thoughts

I’m not so sure about Santa

Written on November 30, 2011 by in Little Monkeys, Quirky Me, Religimcal Thoughts

I grew up believing in Santa Claus. Hook, line, and sinker, I believed in all of it.  From the elves and the North Pole, the milk and cookies left out on Christmas Eve, to the note he left for me to find in the morning, and of course all of the presents, he was THE single biggest part of Christmas for me.  The part about it being Jesus’ birthday was kind of an afterthought.

Then I grew older and learned the truth.  No, he didn’t exist, but I still cherished the magical feeling the belief in Santa brought to all those Christmases. I can’t imagine my childhood without Santa! It’s a tradition I never considered NOT carrying on with my kids.

I’ll admit that I’m not really feeling Christmas this year.  Santa and all his cohorts with their gifts are making me feel overwhelmed. I look around my children’s playroom (and their bedrooms, and my living room, and under the couches, and in closets, and under my feet) and can see clearly that they have too much STUFF.  They’re completely spoiled.

They have no idea what it is to want for anything, let alone that other people struggle to have even the most basic of their needs met.  My kids will not only wake up in a warm bed Christmas morning and have a filling breakfast while wearing brand new PJs, they’ll also have a ridiculous number of gifts to open from Tate and I, from grandparents, aunts and uncles, and because he’s a part of our tradition, there will be gifts from Santa.  We are so incredibly blessed that this is the case, that we can provide their basic needs and much, MUCH more.  But the part of this that isn’t sitting well with me is that they EXPECT these gifts and in their innocent, age-appropriate way, they feel ENTITLED to these gifts.

Santa really is just a metaphor for “On Christmas, we get TOO MANY PRESENTS,” to the extent that Christmas seems like it’s just about gifts and that’s it.  And WE DID THIS, my husband and I.  We are the ones who have allowed Christmas to get out of control and haven’t showed them that Christmas is about giving and the celebration of Jesus’ birth.  I get that  Carson and Ella are just little kids and we have just wanted to fill them with magic and wonder, but I feel we’ve done a huge disservice to them by showering them with more STUFF and by perpetuating the myth of Santa.  Last year in an effort to put a limit on MORE! STUFF!, my husband and I decided that Santa would only be bringing one gift, he and I would give them two more for a total of three.  The thought process behind this idea was that Jesus got three gifts, so that’s what they would get, too.

But that doesn’t include the truckloads of gifts that will arrive from extended family.  Which?  I don’t want to deprive our family from the joy of giving either.

Then there’s this whole idea of Santa.  I’m mean, I simply can’t imagine Christmas without Santa, but I also feel like the whole idea of Santa is like an out of control car that we can’t jump off of.  It’s too late now to take Santa out of Christmas, and really, that’s not what I want at all.  In my heart, though, I feel really conflicted. I’m trying to get my children to love and believe in Jesus, but here in a few years they’ll find out that Santa isn’t real, but oh, that other guy, Jesus?  The one you can’t see either?  Well, HE is real. Yes, I know I lied about Santa, but I’m not lying about Jesus.  You should just trust me on this.  Really??

I’m struggling with how to make Christmas magical for my children without giving up Santa, but also stressing the Jesus part. (Or even if I were not Christian, I’d still want it to be more than just about STUFF, you know?)  What does the middle ground look like where Santa visits and Jesus is front and center and the kids get a few gifts and they APPRECIATE each one?  How do we jump off the runaway car?

 

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I’m telling you now

Written on January 10, 2011 by in Religimcal Thoughts

When I was a little girl I remember going to Sunday school with my best friend and being asked if I went to church or if I knew Jesus.  I remember something about being told I’d go to hell and that sounded like it must be a scary place, so I was afraid.

Then when we lived in Alabama, as neighbors walked around accessing damage in each other’s yards after Hurricane Katrina, a woman asked us where we went to church.  We told her the name of the Catholic church we had attended a few times since moving there, I noted the look that flashed on her face, and a few months later when I was out for a walk with my newborn baby, she turned her back and refused to return so much as a wave or hello.

And when I was in my very first Bible study there were women who had a conversation about choosing to only be friends with other Christian women because non-Christians were sources of temptation and couldn’t possibly have any positive impact on their lives or on their walks with Christ.

It’s the very un-Christian things that many Christians do that made me leery of pursuing my own beliefs.  These people I met caused me to distrust Christians (even though I’ve always considered myself one), certain that any conversation with one of them would turn into a situation where I’d feel judged.  The man telling me I’d go to hell?  Intimidation and fear tactics to teach about Jesus is, in my opinion, not the best way to prove your case (especially to a young child).  The woman who wouldn’t speak to me for being Catholic?  While I’m no longer a practicing Catholic and attend a different church, I still feel fiercely protective of my former faith and a person’s right to worship in the church and religion of their choice without judgment.  And the women who won’t be friends with non-Christians?  I get that we all tend to gravitate toward like-minded people, but flat out refusing non-Christian friendships I think is narrow minded and petty.

I could be wrong about all of this.  The most humbling thing that I’ve learned is that I don’t actually have all the answers.  I don’t think anyone, not even the most learned theological scholar or Physicist or woman in my old neighborhood who’s attended church three times a week for 55 years, has all the answers.

For fear that you’d think I was one of them, I’ve been afraid to tell you.

*************

When we moved here to Tennessee two years ago, I was invited to join a group at a church for women who had just moved, called –get this– Just Moved.  I went for one reason and that was because they offered free childcare.  I figured I could do anything for two hours, even if it meant listening to a bunch of Christian mumbo jumbo if I could get TWO! HOURS! of CHILDFREE! time.

But then, Monday after Monday, I kept going back not only because of free childcare, but because there were women in this group that introduced to me a kind, loving, forgiving God.

These women listened each week as I shared many moves worth of anguish, anger, and rage.   And one day, one of those kind women looked into my tear filled eyes and told me to take that bag that I carried on my back, overfilled with all that anguish, anger, and rage, and give it to God.

I didn’t (and still don’t exactly) know what that meant.  I don’t always get the Christian buzzwords and lingo, but what I think she meant was that I could let God heal my hurts and move forward with His grace (another word I’m not sure I can exactly explain) and guidance.  So that’s what I did.  And my life has changed in ways big and small ever since I did.

But I know that what I just said sounds a little weird and Christian-y, so I’ve been afraid to tell you.

*************

We started attending a church that has a rock band, with talented musicians and everything.  There’s also childcare, and you know how I feel about that.

I totally understand now why people ask when they first meet people, “Where do you go to church.” Sometimes they are being one of those Christians, but the rest of the time they are being one of those Christians that just happens to really like where they go to church and simply want to pass on the information.  No strings, no judgment, no “have you heard the Good News?” attached.

The band is really that awesome.

We also talk about this God who is good and forgiving, and I really, really love knowing that.

I just haven’t said anything because I don’t want to overstep my boundaries and make you uncomfortable, so I’ve been afraid to say anything.

*************

I know that there’s a lot of things that, as a Christian, I’m “supposed” to believe.

But, there are many Christian beliefs that I don’t know how to reconcile.  I’m okay with this, I still have a lot of learning and growing to do and I think it’s okay to have questions.  I also think that at the core of this whole new part of me, is true faith in what I do believe and acceptance that there are things that perhaps I’m not meant to understand.  I believe, without letting other Christian’s bad behavior cloud the goodness I’ve experienced and I believe even though this may affect the way you think about me.

God is big, bigger than anything I can fathom.  All I really have is faith in His existence.

My beliefs have inspired me to be a softer person, one who loves and doesn’t judge (much) (okay, this post was filled with judging them, I need to work on it),  so that’s why even though I’m scared to death to say anything, I’m telling you now.

*************

I’m also telling you that this blog isn’t going become a blog about my faith, even though it’s my blog and I can write anything I want.  What I really want to write about is my goofball kids and post my pretty pictures, and share recipes and tell you about embarrassing things that I do.  If Jesus happens to show up in some posts, then so be it, but He won’t be my primary subject.  I’ve just had these words swimming in my head for months and I needed to let them go.

I also get to mark off one of the items on my 2011 to do list!  Score!!

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Checkout lines are no place for non-church attending Catholics

Written on August 10, 2009 by in Religimcal Thoughts, tennessee

It’s not an exaggeration to say that I am a magnet for Christians.  They LOVE me.   Really, I don’t know why I seem to attract so many Christians, but seriously, they swarm me.  Where ever I go, I always somehow seem to end up talking to someone who really loves Jesus and wants to talk to me about it.  Possibly I have that Catholic look and seem to be in need of conversion or maybe I just have an aura around me that screams “She-ah NEEDS-ah Jesus-ah!”

Now don’t get me wrong, I love Jesus, He’s one righteous dude.  I’m just private about my beliefs and don’t feel comfortable openly talking about God, Jesus, church, or anything dealing with religion.  I struggle mightily with my beliefs and the Bible, but I have the utmost respect for those who are dedicated to their faith, whatever their faith may be.

Something that I’ve learned in the my years living in the south, is that one of the first questions someone asks you upon meeting is, “Where do you go to church?”  At first, I found it quite offensive and intrusive.  Where I’m from, the Midwest, it’s just not something you ask, at least not when you’re first meeting a person.  Religion was always a topic reserved for people that you were very close to and not something to discuss with random strangers.

I’ve grown accustomed to the question and even expect it now.  I no longer stammer awkwardly trying to come up with an answer that doesn’t make Tate and I look like devil worshipping heathens.  Now I’m prepared and typically fib, just slightly, which is wholly different from outright lying.  I tell people that we are Catholic and just haven’t found the right church yet.  The truth is actually that we attended one church since moving to Tennessee and didn’t like it AT ALL and on top of not liking it (AT ALL), Tate and I had to coax our wiggly children into submission with crayons, tractors, cookies and half-nelsons for the hour long mass.  I always make sure to mention when I’m asked about my church attendance, that I attend Bible study every week, though I leave out the part about my initial reason for attending being the free childcare.  (It bears repeating:  FREE CHILDCARE.)

Today at the grocery store I must have looked particularly in need of some Christian intervention.  The teenage clerk, without even saying “hello” asked me, “Did you go to church today?”

Um.  This bears repeating, too.  The clerk?  As in the cashier, the employee of the store, also a teenager, asked me if I’d been to church today.  Which I should mention is variant of the regular, expected question, “Where do you go to church?”  This unexpected alteration was quite disconcerting and really caught me off guard.

“No,”  I replied, not feeling like I really owed this kid any sort of explanation.  Though I’ll tell you the reason that we didn’t attend church today was because Tate and I stayed out until almost 1 AM the night before, cussing and drinking, Tate was hungover as all get out, I was tired, and we had never even planned to attend church anyway.   So there!  Ha!

And that’s when the teenage clerk asked (you are SO not going to believe this), he asked, “Why not?”

Oh my freaking hell, he asked “Why not?!?!?”  Who does that??

I wish I was one of those really quick witted people that can come up with retorts on the fly, but I was flabbergasted!  My reply was lame.  “Because,”  I said with an irritated glare.

Oooh, I really showed him.

Except that I didn’t, because he wasn’t done with his line of questioning yet.

“What?  You just didn’t get up in time?”  he asked, completely clueless to the lasers shooting out of my eyes into his forehead.

I swear it just might be easier to start going to church.

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Nouveau riche or bust

Written on May 26, 2009 by in Huh?, Quirky Me, Religimcal Thoughts

After all the hard work and fretting over selling all my baby items in a garage sale a few weeks ago, the sale itself was a colossal bust.

It was such a miserable failure, that we ended up having the garage sale AGAIN this past Saturday also.

Prior to the first garage sale, Tate and I were certain that we were going to become members of the nouveau riche with the millions of dollars we were going to make.  People were going to see our newly acquired vast wealth with our extended holidays to Malta, our Ferrari’s, and our 64,000 square foot homes.  The other nouveau riche would whisper behind our backs at posh parties in the Hamptons, “how do you think they made their money?  Was it in the stock market?”  Their in-the-know nouveau riche friends would say, “No!  Didn’t you hear?  They made all their money in selling baby items at a garage sale.  Their baby swing sold for a cool 3.2 mil.”

Oh how we’d foolishly spent the money in our heads.

The dismal failure of our garage sale looked like this:  ONLY about 4 or 5 of Carson’s baby clothes sold at our first sale.  Not even one of Ella’s baby clothes sold, nobody even LOOKED at them.  Our only “big ticket” baby item to sell was our changing table.  Our swing?  Our baby papasan?  Our bouncy seat?  Our exersaucer?  Our high chair?  NOT SOLD.   We ended up making about $200, which is nothing to sneeze at, but it certainly isn’t going to buy a 300 ft. yacht.

So this past weekend we decided to have another sale.    My expectations were far less grand than the previous weeks.  I’d be happy to simply GET RID of all the stuff, I was willing to let the stuff go for far less than I’d originally intended.  And thank goodness I had low expectations.

I did sell a good chunk of Carson’s clothes, though I still have two completely full totes of his clothes.  Again, NOT ONE of Ella’s baby clothes sold, nor did anyone even look at them.  The only other baby item to sell was the high chair.  We made $50, not even enough to buy a week’s worth of groceries.

If I were the religious type, I’d think Jesus Himself was trying to tell us something.  “My child!  Stop being greedy.  Fulfillment cannot be found in riches.  Also, you’re going to need your baby girl clothes,” He said with a raise of his eyebrows and a smirk.

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Surviving a Ghost Attack and TWO Earthquakes

Written on April 22, 2008 by in I Still Have the Smarts Real Good, Indiana, Quirky Me, Religimcal Thoughts

Have you ever seen that movie, The Entity?  That is one scary movie right there, one that I should never, ever have watched years ago.  Having a vivid imagination and being one who might occasionally overreact, I was certain that the rumbling I felt in my bed at 5:40 AM last Friday was definitely an evil ghost who’d come to get me.

Luckily for me it was JUST an earthquake. 

First I heard a very odd noise coming from the baby monitor, a noise that certainly wasn’t my children, but an eerie low frequency NON-HUMAN sounding something.  Obviously when I put all the facts together moments after the rumbling that fully awakened me, I positively KNEW that I was living with a ghost (or ghosts plural.)

I immediately turned on every light, running frantically away from my bedroom and the ghost or ghosts plural.  Finding my cell phone, I fumbled to find Tate’s number and call him.  He’s a man!  He could help beat the ghosts!  Or something.

When I finally got ahold of Tate seconds later, I explained the situation and my fear of our unwelcome guests ghost(s). 

“There was this rumbling that started at the bottom of the bed!  And!  I could hear it over the baby monitor!  And!!!  I could feel an energy in the room.  We have an infestation of ghosts!  I know we do, I just know it.  I’m not crazy, Tate.”

After repeating the above sentences about ten times to REALLY!  GET!  MY!  POINT!  ACROSS!, Tate asked if I had considered that it might be an earthquake.

I, obviously, thought that the possibility of an earthquake was downright WACKO.  A ghost or ghosts plural was a much more viable possibility.

But apparently, as it turns out, it was indeed an earthquake–an earthquake I BARELY survived. 

I also narrowly escaped death once before when I was woken up by an earthquake in Knoxville.  Now I can say I’ve survived TWO earthquakes and that makes me, like, really cool. 

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Sorry, No Pictures

Written on January 27, 2008 by in Indiana, Quirky Me, Randomness, Religimcal Thoughts

Guess who has Internet access and is gloriously happy about it!?!?!  I’ll give you three guesses, but the first two don’t count….

That’s right, genius!  ME!

(And it’s not even stolen, which makes me a little sad because that would have been a far more exciting story to tell.)

Anyway.

I would like to take this time to give myself a swift kick in the arse since I packed away my camera at the bottom of a tote and couldn’t take pictures of a few of the things I saw on the drive, because BOY OH BOY did they make me chuckle.  Sadly, this would have been a much better post with pictures.  It’s the kind of thing that it’s funny if you’re there, but maybe not so much when you are just reading about it.

Anyway.

There was a sign along I-65 in Alabama that said, and I’m NOT EVEN LYING, “Go to church or the devil will get you.”  This very helpful message was accompanied by the picture of the devil that looked suspiciously like the devil from those cans of icky deviled ham.  Um?  Can you say COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT!?  I say that copyright infringement yields a far worse fate than not going to church.  I suspect Jesus would agree with me.

Another sign that I saw on I-65, but this time in Kentucky, and I’m still NOT LYING said, “Jim Bob’s B00bie Bonanza next exit.”  Okay, it didn’t actually say “Bonanza,” but I can’t recall exactly what it did say.  That’s not even the point, though.  The word “b00bie” was on a billboard and that’s some funny stuff right there.  I was going to stop the car and have Tate take a picture of me and the kids in front of Jim Bob’s B00bie Bonanza because that would have been KLASSY.

Speaking of adult entertainment, there sure is a plethora of A*DULT BOOKSTORES! and A*DULT VIDEOS! too choose from along this nation’s interstate system.  In one particularly thick patch of A*DULT ENTERTAINMENT offerings I saw a sign on the left-hand side of the road that said, “Turn here for all your A*DULT ENTERTAINMENT needs!”  On the other side of the road, just opposite this sign was a message warning of eternal damnation, “You pay for porn in HELL.”

Wooooooooooow.  That’s quite a deterrent.

See how this post would have been much better with pictures??  Meh.  Sorry.

Exciting update….here’s a link to another blog that posted a picture of the church/devil sign!!  (Thank you Google.  I love you.)

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Forgive Me Father For I’m Going to Sin

Written on April 8, 2007 by in Quirky Me, Religimcal Thoughts

Dear Jesus,

On today, your most holy of all days, I’m so sorry for what I’m going to do. See, HBO has scheduled the last NINE episodes of The Sopranos to begin this evening. I know that it is not a very religimical show to be obsessed with watch. My most pure of hearts knows that it is a poor choice of programs to watch on Easter.

It seems wrong to be excited to find out what has been happening with a set of characters whose job it is to intimidate, murder, watch strippers, screw, and lie. The characters are supposed to be Catholic, but I doubt that they take Easter off from their crooked and evil ways. I should probably record the show and watch any day but Easter, but I DON’T THINK I CAN WAIT. It’s wrong and unholy, but I heart The Sopranos.

It’s the final season, Jesus. Please forgive me for my inability to sacrifice. I mean absolutely no disrespect to your Big Day.

I promise to pray right after the show ends. And I won’t even cuss this whole upcoming week. Well, I’ll try not to cuss this week. I definitely will try to do something really nice for someone this week. That is as long as I’m in the mood for being nice.

Amen.

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