Close Your Eyes

Religion has always been a touchy subject for me. From the time I was little, to today, I can’t tell you how I genuinely feel about it with a steadfast certainty. I want desperately to be a blind believer and just have faith, but I find that very difficult. I assume I’m not the only one, but I feel that people have a hard time admitting to others that they don’t know how to believe or feel, for fear of being treated like a bad person or a lost soul that is in desperate need of salvation. A part of me feels that way, too. I harbor a significant amount of guilt for not just giving into faith. Honestly, it feels like if you don’t believe how everyone else does, then you must not have been raised right, exposed to church enough, understand the value and the need, etc. and you need to change. It’s not okay to just not know.

I remember as a child feeling like church was something we were forced to do. We went very rarely and typically spent the morning rushing to get ready and it was never a happy memory. I wasn’t allowed to wear pants to church and I always felt horribly, physically uncomfortable, like I was playing dress up and all eyes were on the awkward girl. On the rare occasion I was made to attend Sunday school or vacation Bible school, I felt so out of place that I practically hid in the corner until I could leave. I didn’t know any of the memorized scriptures, the Bible stories, or the sing-songy music. Seriously, I was the one who said, “What?!” out loud when the story of the Ark was told. I was the only one (so I believed) who didn’t have a clue. At such a young age, I didn’t know how to express these feelings and it added to my anxiety. It wasn’t until I was in college that I even knew what to call how I was feeling back then. I was anxious. I would get overwhelming feelings of, “I’m not supposed to be here.” The only time that feeling waned in regards to church was when my roommates and I would go together to Lifechurch. It was the only time in my entire life that I left a church feeling uplifted and joyful instead of ashamed and frustrated.

I have a terrible time wrapping my brain around all the hurt and hate in our society. So many people act like this is a new occurrence, but look at history. Hate has always been a huge part of everything. Racism, bigotry, homophobia, adultery…it’s been there since the beginning. I believe social media and media in general are bringing such things to the forefront, more often than not, for ratings. Things get sensationalized and then the real nastiness comes out if you read the comments. Oh, boy. Don’t read the comments if you have anxiety or high blood pressure. It seems this is where you most often find the trolls that believe their view point is the only one. The right one. And any comment to the contrary requires them to lash out and make their point heard again, yet even louder and more forceful than before. They are defensive and proceed to attempt communication with hate, anger, and hostility. The ones I have seen that use their religion as the reasoning, those are the hardest for me to handle. If you hate in the name of your religion, I can’t get on board with that. Any God I would ever choose to believe in would never condone you to lash out at another group of people for such ridiculous reasons! So, you’re telling me that because you believe in God and a book that says (often misinterpreted) “rules” about life, that because my life is different I’m going to burn in hell? I can’t believe in a God or any other deity who believes that innocent children will go to hell if they aren’t baptized by their parents, or that there is any “reason” to be found behind a man with a gun creating mass casualties, or that a person who loves someone of the same sex is somehow less than human. My fear is that people use religion as a crutch. A way to explain away and close their eyes to all the hurtful things that happen. “That terrible natural disaster that killed hundreds of people was awful, but God did it for a reason.” Or allowing you to live like a total jerk 95% of the time, but you go to church every Sunday and you’re on the church board, so you’re good, right? “If I just keep my head down and go to church, I’ll get to Heaven. Screw everyone and everything else.” And can I bring up again the Ark?! I can’t wrap my brain around the Ark. I mean, come on! How did those animals not eat each other? And are you telling me that there wasn’t any cross species action there? Or homosexuality on that boat? Water into wine? Walking on water? Feeding umpteen people with one fish? I just don’t get it! The scientific, logical side of my brain apparently overpowers the other side and these stories just never resonated with me.

All that being said, I still pray. I was notorious for saying, “I’ll pray for you.” or “You’re in my prayers.” and then not doing it. Not that I didn’t mean well, I’d just simply forget. Saying your bedtime prayers was not a thing in my house. I tried to pray nightly when I was in college and without fail, I’d fall asleep mid-prayer. Every. Time. Maybe it was soothing or maybe my mind just can’t do two things at once and sleep trumps thought. Now, because of that whole guilt factor, I just say, “You’re in my thoughts.” In my own sick way I feel that that gets me off the religious-guilt hook. This is not to say that I don’t sit and truly think about you. I try to come up with something to say, something to do that will help you in some fashion. I care. I care deeply and I truly do think about you. Instead of closing my eyes and pretending the hurt is not there, I close my eyes and try to find some peace. I speak from the heart and ask for peace, guidance, comfort…I ask for my loved ones that struggling to find peace in their own hearts. I ask that my children always know that Mommy loves them, not matter what tomorrow brings. To me, this is prayer. This is a moment for me to think about what is important and internalize my feelings. I can honestly say that I feel better when I do.

So, what do I believe? I believe in random acts of kindness. I believe in not stealing the covers. I believe in offering someone the last bite. I believe in snuggling under a blankey watching a Disney movie with my kids can make a bad day turn good. I believe a dinner made by anyone else tastes so much better. I believe in doing for others. I believe kid’s pants should not have pockets. I believe womens pants SHOULD have pockets. I believe in love in all its shapes and forms. I believe in the right to choose for yourself whom you love. I believe that olives don’t belong on pizza…or anything else for that matter. I believe that rainy days have the ability to totally change mood for the better. I believe there is room very every religion, or lack thereof, so long as that religion does not dictate or impede on the life of another. I believe in the spirit and magic of Santa Claus. I believe in recycling and protecting Mother Earth. I believe in finding good in others, but also protecting one’s own heart. I believe miracles. I believe laughing is like jogging on the inside. I believe there is kindness and good in everyone. I believe that we are not born with hatred in our hearts. I believe baby feet are the cutest things in the entire world. I believe there is no such thing as bad ice cream. I believe that when I close my eyes, the last thing I want to see is the faces of my husband and children. If I have that, everything else melts away and I am at peace.