Which Way is Best

Today I am supposed to write on God and/or religion. This is probably not an anectdote I should confess, but what the hey. It happened. And it has its amusing points.

Back when I was in junior high Mother used to drive Gayanne, Helvie and me to church. She would leave us at the front door and go back home. When the service was over she would return to get us. There had been a time when our family regularly attended church as a family. That was before Daddy began long distance truck driving. Once he was no longer home to go with us, Mother ceased going herself. Mickey, Lynahr and Judayl had all left home. Ranlan was up north.

So it was the three youngest who had to go. We resented it, too. Church was not the place we wanted to be. Not then. Back then Sunday was probably the crabbiest day of the week in our house. I hated Sundays. I'm still not keen on them. Until right this minute I don't think I ever really had a sense of why. Perhaps this is it: my family spent the entire Sunday crabbing at each other. What a rotten way to spend a day.

Anyway, it is never a good idea to put three young teenagers together and leave them unsupervised. So it proved one day in church.

I can't remember who started it. It may have been Helvie. That was most likely. But something about the service struck her as funny. Maybe it was someone's voice. Maybe she saw a double meaning in something someone said, or maybe someone, trying to sound spiritual, said something stupid. I don't know. I just know that she started to giggle. Gayanne tried to silence her, but sometimes giggling is just contageous. It didn't take long before the three of us were bowed in our chairs (not pews - this was a poor church), trying to giggle quietly.

The service progressed and our fits only worsened. Soon, it didn't matter who said or did what. It was funny. We tried not looking at each other, but then we would peek at one another and get the giggles all anew. I'm sure we made the service meaningful to everyone around us.

But we were not challenged. Not until after the service. Then, as we were leaving, one of the deacons intercepted us and very politely told us off. He tried to use guilt, complimenting us on our appearance but chiding us for the contrary behavior. Then he said something we pounced on.

You know, if you can't behave in church, perhaps you shouldn't come at all.

His intention, of course, was to shame us into bucking up and toeing the line. Instead, we were excited. When Mother arrived to bring us home we proudly announced that we had been kicked out of church and couldn't come back. There was a lot of crabbing that Sunday. But we didn't care. We were free on Sundays again.

One of Gayanne's friends at school happened to belong to that church. She had not been present on the Day of Giggles, so Gayanne told her all about it. When Gayanne finished by telling her friend we had been banished, her friend was mortified. A week later she approached Gayanne and told her the deacon was devastated that we thought we couldn't go back and wanted us to know we were more than welcome. Too late. There was no way we were going to tell Mother that. We did not go back

It's odd, though. As teenagers none of Daddy's children had any interest in God, much less church. But after leaving home, one by one, we all found our way to him.

I believe there is only one God, but that each of us is allowed to find our own way to him. (I say "him" in the sense of accepted reference. God is spirit and without gender.) This philosophy, which is actually one of my more recent acquisitions, allows me to better accept others. We are all unique. It only makes sense that God will treat with us differently. Daddy had seven children. He treated us all the same - but different. You know? My path opened the morning I at last grasped the truth that I wasn't nearly so perfect as I chose to believe. When that belief system was destroyed my only recourse was to seek forgiveness. I believe I found it.

The road since that morning (4:00 a.m. on my 19th birthday) has often seemed more difficult than before. Life's lessons are often hard, and for most it seems I keep failing the tests. But I'm allowed to keep trying, and so I do.

Talking about God, faith and/or religion can be upsetting. It's such a private thing. If I have upset or offended you, I apologize. After all, if you have been reading any of my blogs it should be clear to you I am as far from having "attained" as I could be. In no way do I mean to imply your status with God. Until such time (if ever) that I can pass my own tests, I have no right to tell you how to take your own tests. But I wish you well. May God bless you and honor you and help you find your own road which leads to him.

Which way is best? Whichever way brings you and God together. For me, it is Jesus.

Have a good day.