Blindsided
We think long and hard before we agree. It would be impossible to take the boys to a three hour Church service but that’s no reason to deny my daughter the chance to go with her pal. I write out our telephone numbers on cards, one for my daughter and one for pal’s mother as they have been mislaid again. It seems like the ideal opportunity to expose my daughter to a different way of life, as well as inform pal’s mum that my name is not Natalie.
I’m surprised that the name of the Church is unknown but I’m very forgetful myself and word retrieval is often an issue around here. Maybe it’s the accent that I have trouble with, or the speed of delivery but I only catch three words; alternative, black and singing.
Racism in the States is more complicated than in Europe. Since I am Caucasian, I find it simpler just to assume that I am a racist and await enlightenment, preferably from someone who is not Caucasian but is American. Hence I prove my ignorance, as these words match the category of ‘gospel’ in my brain.
I am sad to miss my daughter for a big chunk of the day, what should be a family day. I am happy that she will be in good company away from the mayhem of home. The promised treat of “Horton Hears a Who,” to follow sounds like a well balanced mix.
We spend our secular day with a carefully orchestrated easter egg hunt for the boys, followed by lunch in a preferred restaurant of the French Fries variety, low key, low maintenance, high happiness quotient. Despite the fact that it a glorious day we bury ourselves in the darkness of the cinema. We both have a largish boy on our laps, although we pay for four seats. If my daughter comes home to broadcast the glories of “Horton hears a Who,” we shall have a riot on our hands. This is the perfect chance to navigate them both through the trauma of movies in a public forum.
We transition through our day with care until we are re-united with my daughter.
She arrives home breathless, late and sodden for no immediately apparent reason than I can fathom. I am fairly confident that baptisms are not performed on Easter Sunday, or am I? I experience brain freeze without the benefit of ice-cream. I am tempted to wrestle her to the ground, sit on her chest and give her the third degree. I proceed with caution. I opt for a towel.
“My you’re flushed, you must have had a super time. Would you like to go to Church again next week? Maybe we could go together as a family?”
“Uh uh.”
“Uh uh yes or uh uh no?”
“No.”
“No? Was it a bit too long for your first time?”
“I was real bored.”
“You seem to have caught the sun on your arms.”
“Yeah it sure was hot outside.”
“Outside? Outside where?”
“Outside the church.”
“It was an open air service?”
“Huh?”
“You …….and the congregation…er the people, were outside the church?”
“No we were outside the Church.”
“Isn’t that just what I said?”
“No. We were outside. Everybody else was inside.”
“Why was that then?”
“I was ……scared.”
“Oh……..what did you find so…….scary?”
“All the “screamin.””
“Screaming? Who was screaming?”
“The guys who were rollin on the ground.”
“Ro……were they……..did they…….were you on your own outside?”
“No we sat together. Her mom went back “inside.” She said she was scared too…….but I think she wuz jus sayin that to make me feel better.”
“So……..how long were you outside, just the two of you….alone…….in the …….Churchyard.”
“It wasn’t really a Church.”
“Ah…..”
“It wuz a …..an alternative……I forget now. Can I sleep in the boys’ room tonight? Please? I won’t keep them awake or nothin……I jus don’t want to ……..“dream”…..er……sleep…..alone.” I have no idea why their nesting instinct is so strong in times of trouble, a heaped herd of hurt.
“O.k. but just this once. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow after you’ve rested. Maybe it would be a good idea not to tell the boys about it tonight.”
“You’ve got it! There’s no way I’m gonna tell em that stuff! It’d giv em nightmares and that’s a fact, bein little kids n all.”
“So…….why are you all wet then?”
“We went back to the house after.”
“After the service, after the movie?”
“We didn’t get to see the movie.”
“Oh. What did you do then?”
“We played with the hosepipe in the backyard…..it was a lot more fun than…….seein a borin old movie.”
“Yes, I think perhaps it might have been a little babyish for you.”
“How would you know? Maybe we could all go and see it together next week? As a family?”
“What a good idea.”
“They said that we could see it maybe soon, but I’m kinda wondering when ‘soon’ might be?”
“Perhaps we could manage sooner, because you have been very patient. Sometimes things don’t always pan out quite the way we want them to.”
It’s bound to be easier second time around afterall!
I believe we have reached the end of that particular chapter.
On a more down to earth plain, I am also over “here” at “Trusera” with “Dedication to Medication.”
March 30th, 2008 at 12:47 am
blimey! makes me glad to be an atheist! i suppose you should be grateful it wasn’t one of those churches where the people let poisonous snakes crawl over them…
March 30th, 2008 at 6:09 am
I feel for her going to that church. I know for me that is one of the reasons why I avoid church. People running around, carrying on, and what not. Too much for one dude to deal with.
“Horton Hears a Who” was a good movie.
March 30th, 2008 at 7:39 am
I can see where that style of church would be a WEEEEE bit of a shock for a child. Hopefully, that chapter is now closed as well.
Enjoy your movie.
S.
March 30th, 2008 at 7:41 am
yikes, yeah religion.
March 30th, 2008 at 8:07 am
My folks live near a US Air Base and there’s what I could call an evangelical American church at the end of their garden. So I’ve sat in the garden of a peaceful sunny morning, only to hear these poor souls yelled at about how they’re all going to hell one minute, then they’re all cheering the next minute and then they sing pop songs with the lyrics changed so to be about God (which leads to our own game of thinking of pop songs which could be converted to a religious theme; Three Steps to Heaven, God Only Knows, Bat out of Hell, etc.)
Of course, I was christened in the Church of England, a religion based largely around tea, so it’s bound to seem strange to me.
March 30th, 2008 at 8:57 am
I’m glad that the rest of you had a fun day. Something like that happened to me when I was little, except it was night so there was no where to go.
I hope it doesn’t bother her for too long…
March 30th, 2008 at 10:08 am
Oh.my.goodness. Weel, I suppose you could all look at it as a fine experiement in cultural exploration…not to be repeated any time soon!
March 30th, 2008 at 10:23 am
Episcopalian, myself – here, it’s largely about coffee (or sweet tea, if you are in the south). Funny about that: apparently it is still quite close to the Anglican variant! And every priest I’ve ever had also kept his eye on the watch, and cut the sermon short if there was an early football game on TV. Now that’s what I call religion (at least in Texas it is)!
We call the types your daughter just witnessed “Holy Rollers.” I’m glad that she didn’t get dunked against your will! Call me intolerant, I find a lot of those “alternative” brands of Christianity frightening on a lot of levels.
We have considerable trouble getting the boys through church, and rely on the tolerance of the congregation and the promise that there will be donuts in the parish hall after the service. Amazing what a donut can do.
March 30th, 2008 at 2:25 pm
Some 16 years ago I went with my then wife and our 3 year old son to my brother’s wedding at a “born again” Evangelical-type service. Part way through the service she turns to me with a concerned look on her face and whispers to me “it’s not a metaphor to them”. I nod back and resume watching the service. A few moments she whispers with a tone of frantic desperation, “no, you don’t understand, IT’S NOT A METAPHOR TO THEM”. I nod and whisper quietly (because “they” are all around us) “I know, we can talk about this later”.
This was the first time in her life that she had realized that some people didn’t think of religion as a metaphor, but as reality. That to them the events in the Bible were as real (or perhaps even more real) as anything in a newspaper or history book or what had happened that morning, and that many religions felt this way about their beliefs. It was truly her “crisis of faith”. She had gone to Quaker Meeting for many years, and was very well educated, multiple advanced degrees, her parents were both academics, extremely well educated. But they were both atheists.
When I related this story to them later, I tried to chide them for having their 38 year old daughter lead such a “sheltered life”. They were not the slightest bit apologetic or hesitant. It was exactly and precisely how they had tried to raise her. I tried a somewhat different approach with our children; I think a very important thing to know about religion is that to some people it isn’t a metaphor.
March 30th, 2008 at 3:13 pm
Before I was married, I went to a “New Wine Covenant” church with a boyfriend. The service was nice and I was quite comfortable. Then at the end of the service, my boyfriend said “I’ll just be a minute” and walks over to the leader. Suddenly, all over the chuch people are being smacked in the forehead and falling over ‘healed’. I had nightmares for a while (and that was pretty much the end of that relationship).
I hope she wasn’t too traumatized by it all. Sounds like the boys had a good day.
March 30th, 2008 at 4:27 pm
Ah, yes, alternative churches. Definitely need to make sure you get all the details- especially things that frightened her. A church service should not be frightening. We’re Methodist. I’ve ben having to attend the “alternative” service because that’s what is during the boys’ Sunday School. I find even that annoying, except that we have two deaf members who got us onto using sign with Joey. Personally, I still prefer my own garden. But I’ve been to worse- services where people who are perfectly fine or even grumpy outside get that zombie “Jesus loves you” vacant look once inside. That’s really scary.
March 31st, 2008 at 6:45 am
Geez. Kinda scary for your daughter.
You think they might have warned you- or her.
Love,
Suzy
March 31st, 2008 at 12:19 pm
Hope she can process it all out … Americans are quite unique in their racism I believe
April 2nd, 2008 at 3:15 pm
Having grown up as Anglo-Catholics in the South, my husband and I have had the occasional invitation to a church completely unlike our mild-mannered services. I would then host them at my church, and they would find the prayer book/hymnal juggling and “sit, stand, kneel, stand” a “make-it or break-it” point. I’m guessing alot of Americans that are into these denominations actually enjoy all of the fuss & activity.
I hope that if she ever gets another invitation like that, that you all know what to expect before hand! Nothing like having folks “slay the spirit” in front of an unwitting youngster!
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