Last night I wallked through a suburbia neighborhood. I sat for a time, crosslegged, on cement pebbles.
There was a teenage girl twirling her baby sister around and around and around the lawn. I smiled huge. They saw me and smiled at me, huge smiles, twirly body, falling on the green winter grass. I could hear thier giggles to the end of the block.
I couldn't stop smiling all the way to Wal-Mart.
My heart is aching with contradictions. Life is so simple. A child's game multiplied by a billion. Letters instead of numbers in the equations. Variables.
I want to be honest with you. All of you.
I've said it before on this blog, but I haven't said it recently. I wasn't raised Jehovah's Witness. I was raised Seventh-day Adventist. My great-grandfather was best friends with Russell, however. He helped found the JW religion. This great-grandfather was a carpenter and in my home growing up there was an old desk, well made with a marble top, decorated with the Star of David in honor of JW's. I recently sold this desk at a pawn shop for a fraction of it's worth.
Going through old letters we found letters from Russell to my great-grandfather. They were thrown out eventually or given to Mormon genealogical centers who gulped them in one satisfied swallow.
As for the Seventh-day Adventist culture, I am a fourth generation Adventist on both sides. My father was head-elder of our church, Pathfinder leader, newspaper editor, organ player, announcer, on the church and school board, Social President, and Youth Leader. My mother was deaconness, counselor and teacher in Pathfinders, assistant newspaper editor, Potluck organizer, Social Chairman, head of the school board for 8 years, and Cradle Roll Leader.
To top it off, we were quite wealthy and likely one of two top intelligent families in the church. People came to us with thier problems and we mediated them.
I had quite a track record as well, which is to be expected. I hosted a fundraiser each month to raise money for homeless people. I was spiritual vice-president of my class for several years and knew more about Josephus, the Gnostic Gospels, and the Bible itself then most adults in the church, though not many people knew this since I was reserved about my knowledge as female children are supposed to be. I went on several mission trips and had the ultimate goal of starting an orphanage in Brazil and India. I went door to door spreading the good news, and had a high success rate due to my sincere passion and ability to not shove religion down people's throats.
Please note my shame about my residual pride in sharing this with you. This is what I was talking about. Variables can be contradictive (high success rate = pride = shame). It makes sense in a whole, but separated is meaningless, a child's scribbling. (high success rate = shame= incorrect).
For instance, last night I was frightened to sleep alone in a strange house without my boyfriend, so I stayed up all night waiting for him to come home. When asked what I was afraid of I had to respond: well, cumulatively, everything. Apart, Nothing.
He responded: Well, that is natural I suppose. Especially at night.
But I am trailing off the subject. I was going to tell you about my fall from grace in the Seventh-day Adventist church and how this has affected my entire life. Also, about how my absolutes in terms of morality and belief are sanded down by the winds of variability and simply knowing I know very little.
I drifted too far and I'm content to finish this post tonight.
Until then,
Michelle