One step

I went.
"Was it hard for you to come?" Lady in Charge asked
"No, the coming wasn't hard." I start,
"The staying was." she finished my thought.
I laugh, hollow.
She's perfect in every way. The typical Gateway girl. Big, perfect, long hair. Perfectly applied waterproof mascara. Cute shoes. Really cute shoes. I couldn't pull those off.
Service starts. I'm distant. I'm skeptical.

Stupid missionary girl next to me has told me her life story while we were waiting to come in about how she married an abusive man and she really does understand. I find that hard to believe since she has a 7 year old daughter who she has left behind with friends TWICE, once for a year and a half, once for a year, so she can do missionary work. She says "Abraham almost had to sacrifice Isaac. God sacrificed Jesus. It is something I feel called to do." I think she's nuts. I think God wouldn't have given her a child and expect her to abandon the child while she "does his work in Australia." The only reason she tells me all this, I assume, is because I tell her I'm disillusioned with church, and a synopsis of my past 5 years. Tonight is radical honesty at church night.

I sit next to her anyway. I figure she's probably the craziest person in the congregation - about 100 people or so - and it doesn't hurt to have the crazy within arm's length, in case i need to smack her.

We're on the front row and I was wrong. She's not the craziest.
There's a man a few seats down who is one of the annoying Charismatics. Very verbal. Very spastic. He's jumping and yelling unintelligible things. Nice.

Crazy people - check.
Crazy charisma - check.
Fakeness - I want to check this one off, but outside of the waterproof mascara, I have no proof of it. Yet. Checking it off now would be premature. I feel assured I can check it off later, so I leave it on my list.

Worship starts. I'm annoyed because I don't know the songs. They are all Gateway originals. The bass player is confusing and I watch him. I can't figure out if its a girl or a guy - it looks like a guy, except his hair is french braided. He's wearing skinny jeans with high tops. I look for boobs. Since its kinda a heavier guy/girl, I can't tell if they are boobs or man boobs.

I turn my attention on the worship leader. He's obsessed with the crazy missionary girl. I make a mental note to stop calling everyone I see crazy in my head. that's really pretty judgemental of me and kinda mean. How should I know if they are crazy? I wouldn't like people doing that to me.

The worship leader is staring at the missionary girl. I wonder if he has a thing for her. Or if he just thinks she's fruity. Or if he's just looking at her because the light is in his eyes. The light really is kinda bright. It doesn't look comfortable. He finally sings a song I know. Turns out, I liked it better when I didn't know the songs. The familiarity of the song brings back a wave of emotion from other church experiences.

Altar prayer time - that's odd, they are doing it before the sermon. I watch. I wait. I sing with everyone else. Supposedly there's going to be a stand up comedian tonight. Oh goody - Christian Comedy. He starts his sermon. Its reminiscent of sermons I've heard before. Slightly entertaining, but certainly not "Stand up comedy." He keeps looking at me. I can see that he has "feelings" about people - prophetic senses of some sort, though they are undeveloped. I can see this in alot of people I look at. Usually I nail them pretty quick. I see the looks he gives people, like he's hearing their thoughts or voices of spirits around their heads, like he's reading their eyes. I know that look. I've used that look - quizzical, thoughtful, pulling something out.

He finishes his sermon. He keeps looking at me, and I'm sure he "hears" something about me. And I'm sure I know what it is. I'm not budging and my body language and my eyes, which meet his fearlessly, say "I dare you to try. and if you're wrong, I'll tell you so, make no mistake."
Instead, he heads for a blond a few seats over. He tells her God thinks she's beautiful - trite, canned, I've heard it a hundred times. My thoughts are already critical and I chastise myself for thinking that way. Who am I to say what God's word for that girl should have been. I certainly wasn't looking for her aura. I wait.

The guy has three altar calls. Clearly, the worship team wasn't planning on returning to stage, so there's a little scurrying when he calls them back up. Clearly, the worship leader was having a latte in the foyer and someone had to go find him. Awkward. The lady in charge, who asked me if it was hard to come, starts and looks around a little frantic in a split second before she regains her polished composure. I caught it, but only because I've been in church since the week I was born. I doubt many other people did.

The guy has three altar calls. I know I said it already, but it bears repeating. Three. they aren't "come to the altar" altar calls, they are your typical "raise your hands to receive it" altar calls. I am still staring at him, watching his every move. Trying to find his weakness and see through his facade. Its not hard. Its easy to see weakness in people when you want to.

The service is finally over. Missionary girl is talking to me when Lady in Charge comes over to talk to me. She gives missionary girl a look that says "go away" (in the nicest Christian way possible) and sits next to me. I can see that she feels she has read my aura. Problem is, she's already read my email. It wouldn't take too much work to figure out that I'm damaged, considering the information I've already disclosed.

She says "this is a place to find healing."
I'm fine. I'm not moving one inch. And I'm certainly not going to be searching for healing.

"God wants you to know that he knows you never left him"
I look at her.
"Bullshit" I say

She looks at me.
"No, you never lost hope that he was real"
I look down at the floor.
I bite my lip to keep from crying. Crying is so overrated.

"You can be healed here, you know. I know you've gone through alot."
I look at her again.
Sincere brown eyes.
She really believes this.
I don't.
But I want to.

"I'm sorry for whats happened. Its not right. I know church has abused you. you're safe here."
Another line that doesn't ring true.
"Shit happens." I say.

She says "what happened to you is more like diarrhea."
Unexpected. I laugh a little.

She doesn't ask if she can pray for me, thank God. My walls are so high I can feel them safely enclosing me. It makes me happy. And sad at the same time.

She says she's glad I came and wants me to come back. I make no promises, just grab my stuff and beeline for the door. Thank God the missionary isn't waiting for me. I walk quickly out of the church and get in my car. I'm shaken. I'm irritated that I'm emotional. And I talk to God. "I'm not doing ANYTHING," I tell him, "You're going to have to do all the work."

Immediately I hear the voice in my head that gives the 'correct' God response to my statement.
"I already have done all the work."
I shake my head at the phrase.
"I know you sent Jesus to die. Fine. But he was half God. I'm not making even ONE TINY STEP. You're going to have to meet me. I'm JUST HUMAN."
The last words were yelled.
I sense that he's laughing at me.
I think that I wish God had a body here on earth so I could just punch him. Really hard. As hard as I could.
I imagine myself punching God-as-a-human. It feels good in my imagination.
I imagine a movie scene where I'm punching God, then the tears come and I collapse, exhausted and tired of fighting into his arms.
I'm annoyed that God always gets to be the good guy and I have to be the emotional wreck.

I drive home. I tell God on my drive home, while I'm smoking my cigarette, that I'm not willing to do anything. Whatsoever. I am not willing to change my life, I'm not willing to make an effort. I'm only willing to show up. That's as much as I can give. If he wants me back, he's going to have to work for it.

I pull in the parking lot. I call my kids.
I think that I won't be going back to church... but I know I will.

25 Fabulous April fool's Jokes for the Office

Yes, I am aware it is early to be doing this. However, a well-executed plan requires planning. (see? plan - planning?)
so, here are my brainstormed ideas for April fools day at the office, mostly pranks on my boss:
1) Everyone shows up naked at work (clothes in their cars, of course)
Actually, on second thought, I would not benefit from this. There is not one person in the office I would like to see naked. Instead, everyone calls in sick and doesn't show up.
2) Everyone switches offices without telling the bossman, then goes about their business as if that has ALWAYS been their office and he is insane.
3) Swap regular coffee for decaf for the entire week before April Fools. Just when you get everyone detoxed, switch to espresso on April Fools and watch everyone go crazy on caffiene highs. Alternative: Add crack to the coffee.
4) sprinkle fire ants liberally in people's keyboards
5) Take the rollers off people's chairs
6) randomly call everyone's extension, faking a british accent, and ask where the lu is. When they say they know it's you, tell them there must be some mistake - God save the queen! and hang up.
7) move your office to the filing room in order to "make things more convenient". Take up smoking - in your boss's office.
8) Shawn came up with this one - bring multiple changes of clothes. Every 10 minutes go to the bathroom and put on a new outfit
9)Bring a load of feral cats to the office. Release. Bring a load of feeder mice to the office. Release. Watch chaos ensue.
10) Order COD deliveries of port-a-potties
11) Send emails from my boss to everyone explaining that they are fired. Have them delayed sent so he is in the office when they are sent out.
12) Write and send a resignation letter from co-worker's computer to boss. Delayed send so it arrives after the co-worker is in the office.
13) Make an office treat - brownies with exlax. Variation: brownies with hash
14) Hide everyone's keys in one person's office. (Not yours)
15) Order strippers. Use co-worker's name. Send to boss's office.
16) Pop off various keys on everyone's keyboard
17) Don't show up at work. Send a ransom note for yourself via messenger instead. Wait for money to arrive in bank account. Drink martinis while waiting.
18) hide alarm clocks throughout the office set to go off at 5 minute intervals. Pretend you don't hear them when they start going off and that the person hearing them is nuts.
19) start a small fire behind your building burning trash or something. Wait for fire department to come. Stealthily creep away and say loudly to your co-worker that you told them it would not be a good idea to save on trash costs by burning trash.
20) Go online to hig-pressure and high-liklihood-to-follow-up-via-phone businesses. Fill in contact information for people in your office. give them the office number to call and tell them you're VERY interested and they should call the following day.
21) Steal people's cell phones and change the ringers
22) go to co-worker's computer and open up their browsers to porn. Also, change their screensavers to porn. Advise boss that you innocently went into their office and you were highly offended by what you saw. Wait for boss to fire them. Snicker and watch.
23) Add black food coloring to the coffee. Admire everyone's black teeth.
24) Shave your head and tell everyone you have joined the neo-nazi movement and they should too. Brandish a gun for effect. Make sure to keep the safety on.
25) Get police caution tape. String it accross the doors. Make a chalk outline of yourself on the concrete. Lay in outline in unnatural position with ketchup all over you. Wait for screaming.
26) Set alarm for motion sensor. When someone walks in the hall and sets it off yell "GOTCHA!"
Repeat.

She's not crazy, she's my mother!

“I gave up meat for Lent,” my mother told me. This caused me to raise my eyebrows for a couple of reasons. One, she said this as she was dipping catfish in tartar sauce. The other insignificant detail is that my mother is not Catholic – although, this has not prevented her from giving up things for Lent in the past: the year before last she gave up dating for Lent. The year before that, she gave up chocolate. The year before that I think she gave up caffiene (that lasted approximately 4 hours). Lent is an excuse for giving something up. And making yourself feel better.

She continued. “Actually, I didn’t give up all meat (obviously, noting her choice in lunch) I only gave up solid meat.”

Me: “Ok, so you can have meat, as long as its not solid?”

Her: “Yes. Unless it’s fish. Fish can be solid.”

Me: “So… you gave up slabs of meat for Lent? Can you eat ground beef?”

“Yes.”

“How about shredded chicken?”

“Yes.”

“How about spam?”

That’s a quandary. Spam isn’t exactly whole meat. But on the other hand, it is a slab when it slithers out of the can.
She considers. “I think Spam is ok. And lunch meat.”
“How about chicken strips?” My sister in law chimed in.
“No. It’s a slab. A small slab, but a slab nonetheless.”
“But what if you cut it up in little bitty pieces?”
“They would have to be really little tiny pieces,” She replied.

My mother. She is, besides being a once-every-two-years Catholic (during the Lenten Season only), a wreck magnet. In the past 3 years, she has totaled 2 cars and had several *other* wrecks. And that’s just in the last 2 years! Most recently, she totaled her convertible about a month ago. According to her, she was minding her own business (I don’t find that hard to believe – she tends to mind her own business very well when driving – to the exclusion of watching the road and other drivers), when “out of nowhere,” a man driving a rental car turned left across three lanes of traffic and plowed into her. The cop (who’s number she got afterward) also blamed the rental car driver. Damn those rental cars – they give people an excuse to drive badly. So, my mother got a rental car herself until she could find a new car to buy (and, assumedly, wreck someday down the road). She found her new car and I drove with her in the rental to pick it up. We’re driving down the road, going about 40mph to a car dealership I had never been to before. She puts on her left turn signal and drives through an intersection before slamming on her brakes and making a right turn IMMEDIATELY after the intersection (she slowed in 1.2 seconds from 40 to a reasonable 27 mph and two-wheeled it into the car lot). Tires squealing. Sound of crunching metal. She looks at me. “I think those two people just WRECKED!” Uh, yeah, Mom. It might have something to do with your unexpected and untimely turn. “I had nothing to do with it! I was in the parking lot.”
As my brother said, “She goes to the car vending machine every other year, puts in $5,000 and out comes a new car!”

Sigh. She’s not crazy. She’s my mother.

Check out my new blog with my cohort... http://www.shesnotcrazy.wordpress.com/

radical honesty breakdown...

I have been taking time off from my radical honesty blog (www.30daysofHonesty.blogspot.com). Partly because it hasn't been at all interesting or challenging. Apparently I'm already honest.
Partly because I'm starting a new blog. Its about my crazy family. My family is certifiable, no question.
Partly because I'm sick. I've been sick for weeks. Why, you ask? Because. Apparently that's what happens when you get old. Last night I saw a commercial for Boniva to help stop bone loss in osteoporosis and I actually thought "You know, that's something I need to start thinking about."
I'm 30 years old and my body is falling apart. Seriously. I have been to the doctor more in the past year than any year of my life previously.
So. If you're missing my radical honesty, tune into www.shesnotcrazy.wordpress.com.