I attend a writing class in my local community. Our assignment (if we chose to accept it) was to write about a memory. Fictional or non-fiction – it’s for the reader to mull over.

What should I write about? Personally, I think it’s a cheat if you make up a story and say it’s a memory.

So what to write about?

I puzzled over this question as I changed clothes from my nicer work clothes to my battle riddled chore rags. This look was topped off by puttin’ on a sequenced covered baseball cap, sunglasses and ear plugs. As the lawnmower roared to life, I asked myself; “which memory?” In all honesty, I lead a very workaday life. There have been some wonderful things happen, don’t get me wrong. And there had some sad things happen. It dawned on me; I do have a life after all.

When it comes right down to it, I have what is referred to as a selective memory. Some things I can remember like they happened yesterday even though they happened 10 years ago. And then again, I can’t remember what was for dinner last night.

“What to write about?” I began to push the mower back and forth over the yard. Of course the wind decided to kick up its heels and blow grass clippings in my face. My allergies are bad enough without having grass blown everywhere! Kentucky bluegrass has its place. Not up my nose! That’s when my answer came. Even though mowing is a dreaded chore; it’s a time when I can talk to God. I vent about life. Express gratitude for all the blessings I’ve received. Talk about things I want to change or things that I need help with. And when I’m finished, I’m always exhausted and yet feel somewhat at peace with my recent conversation.

According to the legal definition of the word; I was born a bastard. Though my biological parents did get married when I was a teenager.

As a child, mom and I would go church with my grandparents from time to time. I have one memory of these outings. My granny was singing, tapping her foot to the tune of a song someone pecked out on a piano. We were having a great time, when the building kinda shook for a few seconds. I knew we were in the spirit but strong enough to shake the entire church? In school the following Monday, I learned our part of Kentucky experienced a minor earthquake.

When I was 9; something catastrophic happened in my spiritual life. Out of all the things my selective memory decided to hide from me; I remember that day. The pastor of our church was walking across our porch. Odd for him to pay us visit. Mom went outside to have an ‘adults only’ conversation.

You could say that I put too much stock in what I learned from cartoons. Now, if Bugs Bunny wanted to know what was happening on the other side of a wall, he would simply hold an empty glass up to the wall and listen. It didn’t work too well for me. I got a word here and a word there but not the full gist of the conversation.  

I really don’t remember mom’s immediate reaction. But the aftermath was a doozy. We had been churched (as I was later to learn that was a thing). Mom and I had been kicked out of church because she was pregnant and unwed. I couldn’t wrap my 9 year old mind around that. Wasn’t church for the sinners? Wasn’t that where sinners were supposed to be?

For the next 21, years I hated God. He, in my book, was a dead beat dad. He hadn’t been around in years and his child support hadn’t been paid up. I also detested organized religion. It didn’t matter what branch of religion or creed. I really wanted no part of it. I wanted nothing to do with church, spirituality, faith, or anything associated with religion.

I remember making my little granny so mad one time when I said, matter of factly, that the Bible was nothing more than a book about Jews genealogy. I’m sure she wanted to horse whip me over that comment.

Then, I met my best friend. Through her influence I rededicated my life to Christ and just after my 30th birthday, got baptized. I often tease folks by saying all my sins were frozen out of me. I can’t remember if the heater went out of the baptism pool or if they forgot to turn it on. But it was mighty cold and in January no less. I have no doubt that the folks sitting next to me when I rejoined the congregation could feel the cold radiating off me.

Now, Christ is a very important part of my life. That’s one of the things that I look for when dating, what’s your view on Christianity? We can disagree on the finer points but God has to be part of the conversation.

We humans can do a lot to destroy someone’s faith in God. Shew! I have. Some choose to let God repair the damage. Others choose to live their lives in the darkness created by ignorance, hurt, deceit, spit, or just plain hatred. Maybe we get the chance to apologize? Maybe not?

Trying to live a Christian life is a very difficult thing to do. I say try. Because that’s what it is. I try. This world is just too much to handle by myself. If I thought about all the things that I have no control over, there is no way I could function. I would curl up in a ball in a dark corner and let life go its own way. I can honestly say that life with Christ in it is much better than life without.

The End

https://byjolenerice.wordpress.com/2022/10/23/churched/