Peter Cottontail comes tomorrow or as some of my family and friends might correct – Jesus rose from the dead. Yep, this confirmed Catholic has no idea if she’s even right there. She also had a big fat juicy burger and a Mai Tai that kicked her ass on Good Friday. I struggle with religion. I struggle with it so much that I’m uncomfortable by it. It makes me wiggle inside until I want to turn into myself. I have some friends who are wonderful church going folks. I admire them for it. I admire them for their unfailing faith. I admire that they don’t judge me for not stepping into a church for 17 + years. Wait, I went to mass in Boston a few years ago, but that was because I wanted to see inside the church. I’m that bad.
For me religion is being at my grandmother’s church having a people surround me, being prayed for, being told I was going to hell because I was Catholic, going to a church camp where the woman had to swim FULLY CLOTHED. It’s being told that the lord would heal me if only I believed. Religion to me is those stupid motherfuckers who stop me in the street to pray for me because I’m not perfect like them, because I can’t run down a hill or hop a curb or take my shoes off my kicking my foot back and reaching. Poor little dear.
So tomorrow as I give Chloe her stuffed rabbit and I feel Debby’s belly to see if Carter is kicking and I sing Happy Birthday to my awesome mom. I’ll think how awesome it would be to have the faith that thousands have and I don’t.
Poor little dear indeed.
CW
No comments:
Post a Comment