It’s almost Easter. Now, I’ve never been a very religious person, but I have certainly worn my share of shiny white shoes. For your enjoyment, here’s a pic of a 6-year-old me doing a little Easter Sunday après-church fashion modeling. (I definitely missed my calling!)
Lynnie and I were baptized as babies and, up until the age of about 15, were herded off to Resurrection Lutheran Church every Sunday (whether we liked it or not). We were forced to sit through (the boring babysitting service called) Sunday school, and then we did our best to keep quiet during the sermon. Grandmama let us draw and fed us butter rum Lifesavers every Sunday until we were old enough to be interested in what Pastor Derrick was actually saying, and some of it made a lot of sense (how can you argue with ‘treat others the way you want to be treated’?) I was even Mary in the Christmas pageant, complete with a warbly solo. I figured that playing Jesus’s mom pretty much sealed my future as a Church Lady, but it turns out that I was wrong.
What I didn’t count on was one day thinking to myself, ‘Hey…WAIT ONE MINUTE…ANGELS?’ Did they really expect me to believe that stuff? And what about the whole deal with HELL (the place I’d end up if I didn’t stop talking back)…really? Didn’t anyone realize that I was the smart-ass kid who, at 5, looked up the Santa myth in the encyclopedia…did they really think I’d fall for harps, wings and sulphur?
I was never more sure of my lack of belief in churchy stuff than on Easter, when I was supposed to buy off on the idea that God’s son got out of his grave (after three days, no less), walked around for another month or so doing stuff, and then disappeared. It was kind of creepy and certainly not very logical. Of course, I also didn’t believe that a rabbit came through our house in the middle of the night to dump off a bunch of candy and eggs, but I preferred that to the Jesus zombie tale. I decided that it just made more sense to keep on eating the candy, and I managed to keep my mouth shut about both works of fiction…no sense messing up a good reason to eat sugar. (And those Cadbury eggs are only around that one time of year.)
It’s well worth mentioning at this point that I have absolutely NO problem with whatever it is you want to believe…knock yourself out. Luckily for everyone concerned, I gave up being judgmental for Lent.
Here’s a link to the best prayer ever, in my book.