We faithfully attend our home church each Sunday and pray nightly with The Daughters. They have the most wonderful Sunday school teacher since Mary herself taught the fourth grade boys class in the temple! We are mission minded and try to install a globally giving heart in The Daughters. I teach a Sunday School class and The Dad
enjoys occasionally helping with worship service. We are dedicated to our own church family.
However, in an effort to maintain my sanity, catch up on laundry AND eat my private stash of Twinkies peacefully and all by myself, I send The Daughters to every single Vacation Bible School that doesn't mention snake handling. And the only reason I don't send them to those sessions is because I'm fearful they'd come home toting a baby rattler named "Saul."
It seemed to me that this year, the churches were being very generous with handing out Bibles. I'm not talking about the small, pink pocket New Testaments that are typically handed out across the street from our great nation's high schools the Friday before Spring Break. The Daughters were bringing home real, live, fully testamented Bibles.
I just assumed that churches were flush with cash in this economy.
I had no idea that churches were flush with pity for the poor heathen Daughters who lived in a Bible-less home.
It was at a nice, end-of-week, family showcase night at one Vacation Bible School where I learned how this was happening. The Daughters were sitting on the front row after their turn singing "Father Abraham" when the volunteer teacher said, "Remember: Everything you need to know about leading the life God wants to you to live is in The Holy Bible. Raise your hands if you do NOT have a Holy Bible at your house."
Two little hands raised quickly and waved frantically as if in the middle of a 1980's taping of the Jim & Tammy Faye show. I leaned toward them from the side section of the front row (because I was running late in getting to the showcase), snapped my fingers wildly and said, "We've got Bibles!" Daughter 2 frantically shook her head while Daughter 1 asked, "Are you sure?"
"Hell, yes, I'm sure!" I hissed. "Besides the 4 you've brought home this summer, we have, ummm... more... some... Bibles."
Daughter 1, never one to take me at my word, narrowed her eyes, "Are you sure? I've never seen you with one!"
"I carry one to church. Sometimes!" I whined, wondering just how hot my eternity would be.
"I thought that was a library book." Daughter 1 said, thoughtfully, "Are we allowed to read these Bibles you say we have?"
"Yeah! Anytime you want! In fact, if you don't put your hand down right now, I'll make you read the whole darned thing when we get home!" I warned, again, snapping my fingers.
It was too late. The volunteer teacher was kneeling before The Daughters handing them a maroon and black copy of The Holy Bible. Again, I snapped and whispered, "Umm... say, 'No thank you'... ummm, say, 'We've got Bibles'. Say it."
Daughter 1 spoke up and said, "Thank you, but our momma doesn't want us to have Bibles. She says we have some, but I'm not sure they are HOLY."
I threw up my hands in front of well, God, and everyone else and said, "Oh, for heaven's sake!" At this point in time, I'm pretty sure my face will appear on prayer chains all across our corner of the Bible Belt.
The volunteer teacher, handed yet another Bible to The Daughters and tells them she'll pray for them. And their whack-job momma. OK - I'm not sure she said those exact words, but it was along those lines, for sure.
And believe you me... after we get home, they'll need prayin' for! And so will their whack-job momma!
That evening when we got home, not including the Bibles The Daughters had scammed from Vacation Bible Schools all over our greater metro area, I counted 12. Twelve Bibles. All of them declared HOLY.
With excitement and gratitude, let us celebrate our many freedoms - including freedom of religion - that have been so bravely secured by many men and women willing to sacrifice themselves for us! Happy Independence Day, my fellow Americans!
