Livin' On a Prayer

Kids are very smart. Well most kids. Okay, some kids. I was a very smart child. Gifted you could say. Some would call me a prodigy. I knew my colors by the age of two and could read at an advanced level at the age of four. One of the reasons I learned so fast was because I used to follow along with my father's reading passages in church. Cradle catholic is how I would say I was raised, best intentions from my parents. And bless their hearts, my parents are amazingly progressive people with huge hearts, but I think even as a child I knew their intentions were not for me.

Since I learned to read in church I used to get bored reading the handouts and biblical passages. I would get jealous of the other kids who brought in their leisure books and used to wish that I could read them instead. It used to annoy me that Jesus couldn't marry or date for that matter, and why the prodigal son was such a big deal. I mean, he blew away his fortune and the hard working brother was met with hostility? Not to mention the lack of dinosaurs in the Bible. Smart kid, remember?

I got the basics. Be nice to people, don't kill, don't steal, don't say God's name in vain (I don't know any Catholic that follows that one), etc. I liked the be nice to people part and not killing. The rest irked me and confused me.

As I grew older, my mind battled more with the church's "teachings." I really didn't think not going to church or wanting my best friend's new truck was sending me in a hand basket to hell. And I really didn't think that rape victims should be stoned, or touching the skin of a dead pig makes someone unclean, or that planting different crops side by side should result in a painful death.

Eventually, I started my own little battles. Perhaps my favorite was the time I wore a shirt to church that had a guy on it with his ears plugged with the words, "not listening," on it. I really liked that shirt, my mother wished I had worn a jacket that Sunday.

Maybe it was when I sang "Give It To You" by Jordan Knight at a True Love Waits (meaning, save yourself for marriage) mixer. They ended up cutting my song short and the youth council director was shaking her head at me in an angry fury as I took my bow. It could have been the True Love Waits blessing I walked out of right before the prayer began. It was hardly a walk of shame in my eyes; going from one of the front pews up the aisle past all those not-going-to-last virgins.

I'm not really sure of the exact moment I decided to leave the church. I'm sure it was somewhere between the time that they were still the welcoming home of pedophiles, oops I mean priests, and stripping away the rights of gays and lesbians. I still go with my parents only on Easter and Christmas, you know with all the other real Catholics (Mom and Dad go weekly for the record). I get some of my best naps there. It's where I learned to read. And I love to read. And church is where the greatest work of fiction is: The Bible.