In The Next Life

My dad, prior to accidentally blowing up a basement science lab at OCU in Oklahoma City, was a theology/religions major. Apparently, he had an explosive minor. He was raised Catho-bapti-methodentul. He settled as a Methodist when I was about three years old because it was the closest church with the most open mind. 

He loved a good religious conversation. He liked to cuss and discuss scripture. He was confident in his faith and nonjudgmental about yours. 

At some point during my teen years, he opened the door to find the Jehovah Witness parishioners on our stoop. Actually, he was probably tinkering in the garage when they approached him. 

He discussed faith with them and soon they actually became friends. My dad's thought was that if they needed to put in time witnessing in order to get into heaven or whatever, who was he to stop them?

And, while there were a few Saturday mornings that my dad was out when his friends showed up which resulted in my mom, sister and I crawling around on the floor whispering, they were very nice people. When my dad had his stroke, they brought groceries to the hospital. When he was released, they brought groceries to our home. Nice people indeed. 

Because of my dad's desire to not stand in they way of anyone's journey to an eternal paradise, I find myself being sympathetic to the plight of the ill-times door knockers. 

Yesterday morning found me answering such a knock. I had been wide awake since an ungodly hour but had just put on some yoga pants with my frumpy pajama top. When the doorbell dinged, it was only after I'd answered that I considered my attire.

"Good morning," the older lady belted at me. "We'd like to talk to you about your spiritual- ness."

I nodded my head and kicked toward the cat who thought he was going to escape. 

"Are you firm in your beliefs?" She quested. 

"Yes," I answered, noticing that my pajama top was misbuttoned."

"Are you firm in the afterlife?" She asked, and I imagined she was actually smirking.

I stopped myself from rebuttoning my shirt and said, "Oh yeah! I believe that well all be completely healed when we get to heaven. No more flab on this body."

Wordlessly, she handed me her literature and left. 

I realize now that she probably wasn't making a comment about my appearance. 

My dad was so much better at religious conversations. 

#NaBloPoMo: The Post that Didn't Post

I try really, really hard to be positive. There are so many things in our world that need "fixing," and I don't want to be known as a complainer. Complaining does nothing to fix anything. Really. Complaining does not one thing. I know that this is not a world-shattering thought, but around the time of the any elections, my social media feeds would seem to indicate that 99.9% of my friends really thought they could change the world with their complaints.

I wanted to write a post telling everyone to just shut the hell up. I didn't though. I wanted to remain positive.

Source

As long as we have elections, there will always be two sides. Even people who say they don't care, do. I wanted to tell people to just be nice, for goodness sake. When my kid--MY NINE-YEAR-OLD KID--shared with some friends (who are politically on the other side of the spectrum) where our family stood as far as presidential candidates were concerned, she was told she was going to hell. Really. These people are "Christians" despite their penchant for judging others. I told her not to sweat it. God had bigger problems than our presidential elections and the God we served loves all people--even Judgy McJudgersons. Then I wanted to tell them to shut the hell up. But, I didn't.

When gun-control legislation was introduced in response to Sandy Hook. The ugliness continued. No one wants their guns taken. No one wants to take your guns. Everyone continued to ask opponents, "What would you do if..." in presenting their cases. Funny thing was no one was listening to any of the responses. Once again, shut up. I wanted to say it a million times over. I didn't do it, though.

Religion? Everyone's right. Everyone's wrong.

Welfare? Help them all. Help none of them.

Healthcare? Heal the sick. Screw the system.

Movies? They hated it. They loved it.

We can't seem to have a civil discussion anymore. And, I had a post wherein I told everyone to shut up. I wanted to say that words are empty when they lack action ... then I realized that I needed to follow my own advice. This space would stay positive. This space would make a more intentional movement toward positive action. This space would be a place of respect.

So, my "Shut The Hell Up" post? It never posted. My words became actions instead. I would remain positive, even though the rest of the world seemingly jumped onto a negative, one-way road.

Conversation of the week

Daughter 2 and her friend were scheming on the best time to have a sleepover when the convo turned to religion:

Friend:  I have my first Communion on April 14.

Daughter 2:  Your first one?

Friend:  Yes.

Daughter 2:  I have communion whenever I want.

(Momma's note:  We only have communion when it's offered.  
We don't randomly serve communion at our hour just 'cause we want it.  Amen.)

Friend:  That's cool.  Have you had your first Reconciliation?

Daughter 2:  My WHAT?

Friend:  Reconciliation.  It's where you confess your sins to Father and are forgiven.

Daughter 2: (with a slight laugh) Oh... No.  I don't have to do reconciliation.  I don't have any sins.