Me And My Anger Problem...
I was sooooooo close to titling this post "If you're Googling for ____ ____ ____ Church, I'd love it if you'd read this," but y'all know how I worry about my own little Googlers finding me.
I know, I know, I shouldn't go into Religion here, but stay with me -- I'm headed toward personal safety, and we'll get there if you'll just bear with me.
Now, I have no idea what led my brother and his wife to the ____ ____ ____ Church, especially seeing as how both brothers and I pretty much grew up in (or nearly in, however you'd like to say it) a little Baptist Church. I, personally, as an individual, have come to several conclusions on how I, personally, believe; I've learned a bit about what makes other organizations different as Methodists, Catholics, Baptists, Jehova's Witnesses, whichever. I don't have much of a clue about the Mennonites though, and I don't have a clue as to why my sis-in-law takes the kids there every time the door is open unless it's just to get 'em outta her hair for a while. That worries me too; after hearing about 'em all loadin' up in some highschool kid's car to go to Sonic while the folks think all the kids are "at church," but that's a whole different rant. I support every family's freedom of choice when it comes to churches, I just wonder how they made this choice since it's been at least two generations since anybody in this family owned a horse, buggy, or bonnet; but that's probably just a bad joke that's really beside the point.
I got away from said little Baptist Church shortly after I started college; partly because I got busy with things like camping in the woods on weekends, partly because I didn't feel all that guilty staying away since things didn't feel right to me there anymore. When I decided I might go back, I found out why things didn't feel right; my Sunday School Teacher had herself a little thang goin' on with The Pastor. After their little thang brought about two divorces and ruined the home life of several kids, I wasn't interested in being a part of that church anymore. I am sooooo happy & comfortable with my non-conformist little Baptist Church, because God wants our Honesty, not our Conformity. We're a small group, where most everybody knows most everybody's name; which is nice because who wants to be a nameless face in a massive throng? It's good to be with people who share my views, especially the one about how Religion is generally a bad idea because it's usually run by people, who tend to feck things up and that it's not about religion, it's about our Relationship With God and that's what's most important.
Going to Wednesday Night Church because you get to bring your damn skateboard seems about like going to the races because somebody might let you ride their four-wheeler. (Uh, guess who'd better not be touchin' mine, whole 'nuther rant there too though). Leaving Wednesday Night Church in the car with some highschool kid after mom drops ya off? Out of the question. I'da never even been ballsy enough to try it when I was that age, but apperntly, it works for their bunch.
One more thing that apparently works out okay for the Mennonites is letting an elementary school kid bring a knife to "church" with him.
Yeah, ain't that nice? The younger of the two HoMeSkOoLeRz, the one who's nine years old, apparently got cornered by a kid at "church" yesterday who pulled a knife on him and threatened to "cut his throat."
Wasn't physical violence one of the scary things about public school that made 'em choose HoMeSkOoLiNg???
I am also irritated by the fact that that sis-in-law seems to think it's not a big deal and that my brother "shouldn't get so mad" about it.
Shouldn't get so mad about it? Now, I'm not anybody's mom, but if some little bastard pulled out a knife and offered to cut my nine-year-old's throat, I would most definitely be mad about it. Shouldn't get so mad about it? As a crazy ol' aunt, I'm pretty fucking pissed off about it, and the first thing I said was "Are you sure about the quality of your church?"
There's a part of me that wants to tell her that because she's the mom of the only little MyLastName kids there's ever going to be, I want her to think about how she builds their future and what they learn from the choices she makes for them.
There's also a part of me that wants to corner her, pull out my pretty-butch-for-a-straight-chick pocket knife, grab her arm, jab her a couple times, and then ask her how mad she is about that.