One of my closest friends in all the world is someone I'll call M. M is in her mid-thirties and was raised a JW from infancy but is one no longer. Her parents are still very JW... her dad is a very high profile, respected elder in a large American city. They are both cool people... I've sat and had long talks with both of them about subjects having nothing to do with 'the truth.' Both have college degrees with a wide range of ideas and well-developed senses of humor. They are really, really cool people.
Since fading from the org, they have given M a considerable amount of grief to the point that she has questioned the love they once felt for her. Last weekend, she sent me this:
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Friday afternoon marked the end of an extremely volatile week for me.
I have to admit I was caving in. I was caving in so much that when I went
to sleep Friday night I had a dream that I parked my car somewhere and
couldn't remember where I parked it. In my dream I got tired of walking
around trying to find the car so I asked a friend of mine to let me borrow
her car so I could drive around to find mine. I woke up before I found the
car...
Long story short, when I opened my eyes, I wanted my Mommy and my Daddy.
That's all. Nothing more. Nothing less. I wanted to crawl up in my
Daddy's lap and cry like a baby then I wanted my Mommy to come in and give
me a warm glass of milk and read me a bed time story until I fell asleep.
So I got up, put (my son and his pet iguana) in the car and drove to Tulsa, OK.
When I got home, I got hugs bigger than the universe.
Of course ...Daddy's lap was out of the question...so I sat next to him. Of
course...warm milk was out of the question...so I had tequila instead.
Daddy talked me through what was troubling me. Then my Mommy ran my bath
water. I took my bath, put on my pajamas and went to bed. I slept like a
baby. The next morning we got up. Daddy sat on one couch. Mommy sat on
the other, I laid my head in her lap and (my son) laid his head in mine.
And y'all know what?
I found my car.
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This was one of the most beautiful things I have every read. I asked her if I could pass this along, and she said I could, no problem. Knowing what she's been through with her folks over her inactivity with the religion, being able to go back home like that was an amazing gift they gave her.
I called her as soon as I could and we talked for two hours. One of the things she said was that neither parent said one word, not one syllable, about "coming back to Jehovah" or any of that bullshit. She was just their daughter... they loved her as much as ever... and she was welcome to come home.
Beyond the religious aspect, lots of us would like to be able to do what she did, to recapture distant and fading memories from out childhood. As a forty-something year-old man, I wish I had one single memory like the one she shared with me... sitting in my father's house, being a little boy all over again... if only for a weekend.
As it is, what she wrote meant the world to me. I will remember it always, if only as a dream.
Peace