At night, our goal has been to read to our offspring to increase vocabulary and whatnot. Having a child really makes the parent focus on their childhood as well. What are the things that can be passed forward? What could be held back?
I grew up religious; however never really believe in god the way my mother did. I didn’t feel this giant fear around death and the afterlife as her either. As I grew older in age — and due to the treatment centers, and various group homes that had a hard push for Christianity. I got baptised into this insanity.
I was so deeply wounded, a set of rules seemed helpful. This Bible thing was going to teach me good from bad; right from wrong. And everything in between. There was a lot of comfort in having a set of rules for life.
I guess, I also believed that my mother would love me — “again.” In the ways she promised she did; I wanted to see it in her eyes. Truth be told, I found out I wasn’t the apple of her eye. There was no such thing as “enough”. She found my literal interpretation of the Bible to be fanatical; as if it all isn’t cherry picking?
There came a point where I said — I think the Amish are at least attempting to live “the truth.” Otherwise — what is this? Why do people believe the bedtime their parents tell them are true? And what responsibility does the parent have in clarifying fact from fable?
I used to think I’d live to see the rapture. My mother used to tell that I’d love to see the end of the world; and perhaps, the end of my world — death is inevitable. I used to be so scared of Armageddon; the way I am currently viewing this reality. It looks a lot like emotional abuse from traumatised parents given to their children as a way to “protect” them from the angry god of life.
The rules for my life are uniquely written inside my heart. No one else can tell me what is right or wrong. And who am I to tell anyone else? I think that’s the issue that comes from these fundamental religions and missionary work — recruitment; telling people “the good news” which I found out it’s just something some men made up.
The bedtime stories I read to my child; he knows its just a story. He will know that no virgin births a baby. I will tell him about the stars and the universe around him will have wonders that only he was born to explore. I used to think I’d raise my child in the “true” church.
And maybe I am.