Religion’s a joke to my kids–so, have I done something wrong?

When she came around the corner in her pink pajamas, I knew she wanted to chat.  It’s Saturday, and mom isn’t rushing off to work, isn’t grading papers, isn’t busy!

“Can I help make breakfast?”  No way could I say no to that.  “Hey mom, guess what?  I have a new God that I pray to.”

“Really?”  Formerly, it was the God Poseidon.  She loved Poseidon, and swore he was the only God for her.  But I wanted to know what this new God had over him, so I played the game.  “Which God is it? Jesus?  Mohammad?”

“No.  It’s peanuts.  I pray to the peanut God!”

“There is no peanut God.”  I said.  At this point, my husband had to defend his daughter’s right to worship Sir Peanut.

“You don’t know that.  She has a Peanut God, so he must exist.”

“That’s right,” she said.  “My Peanut God is wonderful, and he smells great!”

I had the girls disappear for a minute so that we could have a grown-up chat.  I told my hubby that  he was making a farce out of faith.  Our job, I told him, was to give them a chance to choose their faith, not make religion seem like a game.

“But that’s not what we’re doing,” he complained.  “We are allowing them to choose how they interact with faith; we’ve taken them to church–they didn’t stay.  We tell them that we’ll love them no matter their choice–so they create ridiculous choices.  Religion seems like a game to them because they equate it with Santa Clause and the tooth fairy; we didn’t tell them to do that.  We allowed them freedom, and they didn’t take it seriously.  We didn’t do anything wrong.”

And I suppose he was right.

Had we been in my childhood home, and I said I was ready to worship the Peanut God, I might have been smacked somewhere, told to ask

Jesus isn't something to smirk about, right?

God for forgiveness, and then forced to attend church to repent.  In our home, we say “Good for you.  Why did you choose such a ‘unique’ God?  We love you no matter what God you choose.”

But I have the guilt that comes with being raised in a faith.   Should I tell  my kiddos that religion is  a serious subject because that’s how most people see it?  They know that a comment like that in front of, say, the grandparents, is inappropriate–the grandparents are ‘faithful’ people.  But is making a joke of religion bad no matter when you do it?

I want my girls to believe in miracles, I think…..

So we’re in the living room watching X-Men II.  My youngest forgot that Wolverine was shot dead by the police officer at Iceman’s house.  As Wolverine begins to heal and opens his eyes, she gasps.

“It’s a miracle!”

“Yea, it’s a movie,” her older sister says, “miracles aren’t real.”

The devil’s advocate inside of me screams “challenge her!”

“You don’t believe in miracles?” I say.

“No.  People don’t get shot in the head and heal up and walk.”

“Well yea, ok.”  I say.  It was so fun!  I wanted to stretch her logic as far as she was willing to go.  “What about when a plane crashes, a bad crash, and only 2 people survive.  Isn’t that a miracle?”

At this point, my hubby is intrigued.   He swings his chair around and perks up his ears.  She glances at him, smirks, and starts talking:

“No.  That’s not a miracle.  That’s good luck.  A miracle is something that could never happen–and then it happens!”

“Do you believe in miracles?” my husband asks me.

“Well yea.  Some times the probability is low, but a woman tops over a car and then she could never do it again, just that once, to save her baby.  That’s miraculous, don’t you think?”

At this point, the youngest pauses the T.V.  She could care less about anything but seeing the part in X-Men II where Siren is hollering as the snipers start begin shooting the kiddos with tranquilizers–what a great family show, eh?

“Can I rewind the movie while you guys are talking?” she asks in her  shut up people tone.

“Ok, sorry.  We’ll talk about it another time.” I say and all is well.

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But the entire time I stared at the tube, I thought about our conversation.  Did I believe in miracles?  I want my girls to avoid being scammed by the treacherous of the world; how could they do that if their not rooted in strong logic?

And if I believed in miracles, in any form, did that mean that the miracles associated with faith COULD be true?

I figured I throw the question out the world, and see what came back!

I certainly don’t believe that it’s probable for a man (like, say Jesus), to rise from the dead three days after he was buried.  That simply defies all that we know to be true.  And I certainly don’t believe that it’s probable for a man (like, say Muhammad) to fly on a winged horse.  But I do believe that the improbable happens: that’s why a probability of it’s occurrence exists.

Now the final question of how we identify those events is a whole other issue.  Do we term it  a miracle, do we say it is highly improbable, or do we just say damn, you got lucky?——> and does it matter what we call experiences if all the words mean the same thing?

So, Mrs. Evangelical…you use birth control, heh? And you think God’s letting you through those pearly gates?

I’ve got an evangelical friend, we’ll call her Gabriella.  Gab and I didn’t go to college together, but we did spend our first years teaching together.  Those years were hard; we leaned on each other for moral uplift in a district that, at the time, was failing all peoples involved.  Of all the friends I have, Gabriella is really a jewel and I love her so–and miss her–so much!

She lives a couple of states away, and I”m still trucking it out in the great state of Missouri

What makes my friend Gabby so interesting is that while she is a conservative evangelical christian, she also makes no apologies for her use of birth control; and why should she?  She has her religion and then she has her common sense her, well, she has a perspective that makes sense.

“Why would I want children right now,” she says.  “My husband and I haven’t even been married for five years!  I’d like to spend some time with him, travel with him, love only him for a while.  And then, perhaps, kids.

Of course other family members don’t quite see it that way.                                          Marriage gets you sex, sex gets you kids–and gets me grandkids!  But my friend stands her ground: my choice, my time.  Until then, Gabby and her hubby frolic in their love den with the best baby inhibitor’s that science has made!

I teaser her about the whole “be fruitful and multiply” mantra that so easily falls off the evangelical tongue these days.  I am told simply that she loves god, and she loves life; in balancing both her fruitfulness will simply have to wait.

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This is the birth of the moderate christian, and its a beautiful birth to see indeed.  How often do get to see a group of faith-believing young people say, aloud, we love god, but this just doesn’t make sense for us right now.  We aren’t Atheist, but we don’t want to follow this rule right now, and that doesn’t make us bad.

I’m proud of those Christians who keep their faith while recognizing some of the less attractive parts of the faith as well.   This is how a faith evolves, matures, tempers.

If god won’t let a parent into heaven for waiting to be a better mom or dad, for choosing to cultivate a strong marriage before adding children to the mix, then that God isn’t  making a whole lot of sense.

Said the mother to the child: you’re taking advantage of me!

It’s 6:20 a.m.

I’m fumbling downstairs, having got up 5 minutes earlier.  The youngest girl meets me at the bottom of the stairs, ready to plead her case.

“Mom, can I get on the computer?”

“It’s 6 oclock in the morning.” I say to her.  She knows this, and she doesn’t care.

“I just want Essie to show me something on Toon Town.  Please?  It’ll only take a minute, I promise.”

I stare.

I’d went to sleep the night before doped up on hydrocodone (thanks to the root canal the dentist performed earlier that day).  I was groggy, confused, and really pissed at her for not caring.

“No.  We’ve talked about this before.  You’re not allowed to use the computer in the mornings.”  I grabbed some water and my purse.

“Oh man, I just wanted to use it really fast.  I promise not to set the timer for longer than 5 minutes.  Can I mom, please?”

I walked out the door.

I’d woken up that early because I needed to prepare a few things for the sub that would be taking my place at work; I needed a day of sleep, a day of pain meds.

On my way to work, my thoughts would focus on that persistent child of mine.   She knew the rules,  and she also knew that I was in a weakened position.  Her goal was simply to do what she wanted, and with dad asleep (and mom at minus 20 hit points) it was safe to assume that she might get her way.

My youngest is very strong willed; if she wants it, she won’t let you forget that you didn’t give it to her.

And could you believe that when  I got home–she was waiting for me with the same question?  That was it.

“You, my daughter,” I told her, “are trying to take advantage of me when I am not in a good mood.  Shame on you!!”  The older daughter sat still, taking it all in.  “I told you I don’t feel well.  You’ve seen the medicine I was on.  My mouth hurts, my stomach is empty, and I just want to lay down.   Asking me to do things that you know you’re not supposed to do because your dad isn’t around, and because I might say yes is mean and wrong; that’s not what you do to people you love.  Do you even care about me?”

“Yes.”  her head was sunk, and her eyes were looking at the floor.

“If you care about me, then help me out, will ya?  Think about my feelings a little, not just what you want.”

I walked back upstairs.

I’m not sure how you teach a child to be self-less; to teach them to care about other people more than themselves in a given situation.   All we want as parents, secular and faithful alike, is to have young people who show compassion when compassion is necessary.  I suppose it starts with helping young people realize when they’ve been insensitive in the hopes that next time, they’ll show some love.

Princesses turned demons for Halloween–is it time for counseling?

I really wish this was the title of a movie–but it’s not.  It’s my girls, and it’s Halloween; but this year, things are different.

We’ve said goodbye to princess costumes.  “Those are for little kids!” my 8-year old says as she waves her hand and turns up her nose.  “No one wants to be a Disney Princess.”

Also out: any form of bug, doll, or toy–and no costumes with pink, purple or yellow as a “main” color.

“Ok.” I said.  “So what are we being this year?”

“A vampire” hollers the youngest.

“A spider queen ghost” says the other.  And they have all the costume plans ready.

“Evil people?  You want to be ‘evil’ people for Halloween?”

Black nail polish and lipstick, fake eye lashes, wigs (black and platinum blond, respectfully). Fangs.

Yes, it’s violent–and gruesome.  My vampire girl talked openly about blood-sucking and yellow eyes that see the best people to eat.  (This of course is the same girl who refused to watch Monsters Inc. because it was too scary)

And my older one: spider queen.  This from the same child that had convulsions at the thought of a bug attaching itself to her when she was little.  This from the daughter who runs from movies with even the slightest hint of heightened action in them, which by default sends her packing during any family movie date.

Her goal this Halloween is to be “nicely evil” she says.  I don’t ask her to explain–why?   She knows what she means!

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It’s really not that big a deal

But should I let them be blood-sucking monsters this Halloween?  Is that the morally right thing to do?  Am I jeopardizing the fabric of their goodness, their moral compass, by allowing them to dive into evil on Halloween?  Am I de-sensitizing them to violence.

Mostly, I’m letting my kids dress up scary like their friends, that’s it.

Diving into the “dark side” is not that big a deal; it’s a costume one day of the year.  (Though I will  admit, the hatchet and knives with fake blood moving around inside did give me cause for pause.  I guess I have some limitations)

Yes the candy is awful for kids, but if you can’t allow your kids one day of splurging, when you’ve undoubtedly had more than that, you’re not being fair.  Still think the candy alone makes for an evil holiday tradition?  Do what most parents do: hand it out in chunks.  It’s foolish to hand a bucket of candy over to a kid and expect them to act responsibly.

And did allowing my children to choose their costumes mean that they need serious counseling for their decisions?  I didn’t say that when they were princesses.

Who decides what’s evil for a secular parent?  We do!  As my daughter said, “Spider queens can’t help that they’re spiders!”  And vampires are “bitten, they don’t have a choice!”

I’ll admit that Halloween does give young people the feeling that ghosts, goblins and other things spooky are real–but only if you haven’t already discussed these things with your kids.

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No Hell House rant this year

–just a note.  I deplore Hell Houses!  Not haunted houses–they’re just for shits and giggles.  But Hell Houses: far-right wing, absurdly false images and ideas, aimed at scaring young people into believing in Christ.

I wrote a post a while back on H.H.’s—>explore it here!

S.P. to kids: “do what I say and you won’t get yelled at!”

I’m just a bit stressed out—-> and I doubt the man upstairs can help.

A month or so ago, I went on a wonderful rant about how good people should be in homes.  “Would God Bless A Deserving Atheist?” I asked.  Well I suppose if I were a believer, I would count my recent dive into the sloppy real estate as a blessing.

But I’m not; and I don’t.  I credit my home loan application as a testament to being pissed off and deciding “it can’t hurt to apply.”   I do feel grateful for having a shot, but the house isn’t mine yet.

When  major life events disrupt our little family, my parenting skills revert to brutal honesty.   The problem? (sigh) Let’s see:

Home loan update

have we gotten all of our w-2’s——-> no.

–have we paid and gotten receipts for credit crap?—–> no.

–bought the stove and refrigerator that the appraiser requires?—–> no.

Job crap

–the principal at work has been yanked out of our building (without explanation) by the big wigs downtown.  The result: building-wide instability.  Great.

–my students are moving into the sonnet, Shakespeare, and everything else most teenagers hate!

Other lovelies–

–the house.  A mess.

–the girls hair, depressing.

–me (and the hubby) no exercise.  This is the worst.  My body is begging me to walk around the block, get on the elliptical, walk in place, anything!

My Dwindling Parenting Skills

Between the home loan paperwork, my job, the hubby, cleaning, and–oh–the blog, my parenting skills suck.  Last week, I actually said this to my kids: “you need to understand that buying the house is complicated.  Anything we ask you to do, you should just say, ‘ok mom’ and do it.  This will keep me from yelling at you, and keep you happy.”

They stared.  The oldest walked away.  What kind of parent says that?  Sound familiar: Oh it’s such a scary and tough time for the nation, so I’m just gonna breach the separation of church and state, and first amendment privacy laws.  If you let me do this and be quiet, we’ll all be safe.”

I’m drowning here.  I apologized to the girls yesterday.  I wanted them to know it’s stressful and little things will tick me off, but also that I’m not mad at them–I’m just stressed.  But you can’t be a good parent and be stressed, now, can you?

My date with the 9-year old–Don’t worry, it’s not dirty!

My first daughter has me wrapped around her fingers.

After two failed attempts, there simply was nothing too good for my first crying, breathing baby!  She had cloth diapers–no way her butt was gonna sit in a plastic diaper!  And, when she cried the world had to stop!  She was my beautiful, perfect, spoiled-rotten child.

And when I came to my senses, she revolted.  It was fun.

Now, she’s a 9-year old, lanky, readaholic.  Dad has stomped out the major traces of “Verruca Salt” in her.  But every now and then, that child says just the right thing to break my heart.

Take last month, she comes to me and says, “Mom, can you have lunch with me at school.”

“Well you babes, I have to work so that’s gonna be hard.”

She didn’t exactly cry; but then again, she knew she didn’t have to.  All she really had to do was drop her caramel face, take a deep breath, and let the moisture condense–just enough for me to THINK she was crying.

“All the other moms come to lunch mommy.  They sit and eat and talk and everybody likes them.  You don’t have to stay, you could just go back to work.”

She was right.  We live in a solidly middle-class neighborhood, and many moms don’t work.  It’s bad enough giving up on PTA fundraisers, classroom monitoring and organizing parties.  I have to work, and so does my husband, so we just can’t compete.  Now, I was an awful mom because I wouldn’t eat with my kids at lunch too!

That gave me an idea.  I rarely take off work, mostly because I just feel so darn bad about calling in when I’m not really sick; not to mention the fact that  I don’t want to give anyone ANY reason to replace me (but my baby doesn’t get that part).  But, if I scheduled it far enough ahead of time, I could take a personal day.  A morning of sleeping in (a bit), getting some small errands done, and making my needy baby smile sounded pretty nice!

I grabbed the calendar. “Pick a day at least three weeks after today, and please make it a Monday or a Wednesday.  Then, I’ll tell my job that I’m taking that day off.”

“Three weeks!”

“Three weeks.  I can’t wait!  Let me know when you choose a day,” I told her.  And then I walked away.  I wanted to argument, and she was poised to revolt.

She chose a Monday (Yay!) and her patience was, well, less than that of Job.  But we had such an awesome day!  I met her “girl circle”, ate in a real elementary-school lunch room–and said hi to the other babe as her class was heading into the gym.

Now, I can’t be a stay-at-home mom–my choice was to work.  I make no apologies for that.  However, that doesn’t mean I can’t make time for a lunch date with my favorite 9-year old!  She had a blast, I earned cool-points, and I’m scheduling a date with my favorite 8-year old soon–she can’t wait!

Michael Moore: I know he’s biased, but so is Fred Phelps!

So, the hubby has been at it again, surfin youtube!

We know Michael Moore: his left-skewed movies make us scream about the balance between journalistic integrity and painting a true-to-life picture of American  hardship.

And Monsieur Phelps?  We know him as well.  That would be the right wing “trailblazer of God!”  Mr.  Phelps is responsible for the picket signs that spew venom at the funeral of dead soldiers; he also protested the funeral of Matt Shepard, a college student murdered in Wyoming for begin gay.  Phelps  fundamentalist approach to faith and the Bible have earned him ire among even the most faithful.

Here’s Moore’s “gay tour” to promote a more balanced perception of gay and lesbian Americans.  Take a peek.

Hmmm…could Moore have chosen a better way to promote gay rights?  Heck yea!   Moore lives off shock value, and there’s a place in our society for journalists and movie makers who wish to do that.  I thought the “road show” actually put those gay men in grave danger.  And as a person who lives in the Midwest–I’m serious.

Now, could Mr. Phelps have conceded that even though he personally disagrees with their lifestyle, he is not a person who can speak for Jesus?———-> Well, he could have, but only in my wildest dreams!

“They can’t feel me squish them”

Like most Atheists, my basic value system parallels that of secular humanism.  This means that I believe a life, no matter how small, is worthy of dignity and respect; not because God or any other being mandates it or made the life, but because life is precious.

From a tiny, one-celled organism to, well, an ant; all life has value.

But that’s not what little Tommy thought.  Tommy’s an average American, Midwestern boy: he likes monster trucks, copies all the gestures of the men in his life, and he goes to church every Sunday.  Overall, Tommy’s a really nice kid.

We were outside when little blond, brown eyed Tommy walked by.  He’s in the third grade, and he eyes the fairly large, shiny black ant a couple of inches from the grass.  He runs.  The ant moves faster.   Tommy takes his size 4 shoe and extinguishes the ant.

“Tommy!  Why did you step on that ant!”  All the kids stop playing in the parking lot, and I realized that I probably spoke a bit louder than I should have.

“They can’t feel you squish them.”

“Why do you say that?  Are you an ant?”

“No.”

“Do you know any ants?”

He just stares.

“Would it hurt if something the size of a planet stepped on you?  Would you try to run and get away?”

He stares.

“That was an awful thing to do.”  In an effort to stop my lecture, I stared at him one last time, watched his face go into thought–well, away from my eyes anyway.

But as I stomped into the house, my frustrations didn’t subside.  How could he blatantly kill and not even blink?  Yea, I know it was an ant, but it wasn’t one of those accidental murders–he saw the ant and thought ‘I’m gonna get it!’  And Tommy’s a good kid, he really is.  He does well in school, he’s respectful–and he doesn’t value the life of things smaller than him.

I don’t know, maybe I’m making too much of it.  Maybe I’m too tree huggy, but I taught my children that a life is a life, no matter how small–Seuss, anyone?  I know my children have killed bugs before: we had a lengthy conversation about the value of life at 2, we revisited the issue during the ‘great animal stomp’ at 5, and ever since then my kids know I better not here of them killing because they can.

If we teach kids that some life has value, and other life is meaningless, what’s to prevent them from hearing that ’some people’ are better than ‘other people’, or that it’s ok to put those other people in camps, on reservations, or ANYWHERE but here with us?

All life has value.

The playground: the new battlefield

It rolls off the tongue with such vigor and sharpness: delusional.  The only emotion that rises from being called delusional is rage.  So why do freethinkers toss it from the tongue?  Don’t they understand the power of that word?  Of course they do, and that’s exactly why they–why we–use it.

Of course it stems from a truism: debating the validity of faith and religion in general can only go so far–once a person says ‘I believe’ you have to say ok…right?

When Richard Dawkins book, The God Delusion, flew off of bookstore shelves I was so happy.  I thought “we finally live in a world where religious hypocrisy can be discussed, openly.  Where inconsistencies–the kind that led me to stray from my Christian upbringing–could be banished as non-facts.”   But the God Delusion did more than that.  It inadvertently  branded people–specifically Atheists–as rude, mean spirited and arrogant.  It deemed all religious people–delusional, ignorant, and mentally weak.

When I speak with my evangelical friends, I tread carefully through our conversations.  Fear doesn’t provoke it; a love of knowledge, friendship, and a love of truth makes me watch my tongue.  If I want to see the relationship between freethinkers and the faithful change, I have to bring warmth before I deliver cold.

When I was a ‘new Atheist’, there was no stopping me.  My blood wanted a fight, and logic was on my side.  I’d say it just the way I felt it, which was usually pointed toward the hypocrisy I saw specifically from organized religion and religious individuals in general.  I’d call out ANYONE, ANYWHERE.  I had a RIGHT to criticize faith, and I was using it.

But maturity has slowed my passions.  Yes, I am an Atheist.  And yes, I do believe that organized religion is designed to maintain the facade of an afterlife for the purposes of controlling, using, and manipulating those who genuinely believe.  I am sad for those who were ‘born into faith.’

I want young people to choose.

I also acknowledge that Atheism can’t answer for all the experiences of the world, and we need a balancer–an opposite–to keep in check the power and control of the many over the few.  I wouldn’t want to live in a world of Atheists only, no more than I want Christianity to dominate the landscape.  There is a way can find our similarities and put aside our differences for the purpose of helping us all.

And I love the writings of Richard Dawkins–and I make no apologies for it.  If we look behind the angst and passion of Dawkins–which tends to pronounce itself as a hybrid of emotion and impenetrable logic–we see a frustration that cannot be controlled; he tries, but it overrides him at times.

This is the same frustration that plays out on the field at my kids school–where they battle for their right to be free of Sunday school, free of hell and free of Jesus.

Delusion  heaven  devil Jesus  Mohammad  hedonist, immoral, stupid.

These are the words we sling back and forth at one another, freethinker and faithful alike.   I temper my words, and consider my thoughts for the sake of respect, and for the goal of living in a world where a perspective is a perspective, and all perspectives are authentically allowed to foster.

But the playground, who’s watching the playground?  Who’s making sure that our children move into a space where they can stand up for themselves, and yet still respect another’s point of view?  If we all took a minute to tell a child, “Because people think differently than you does not mean that they are bad people,” a crack, a split, and then a crevasse would emerge.  And try as they might, the boxes deceptively placed around the mind of a child will weaken.

All bloggers meet The Smiths, eventually………

Do you know Mr. and Mrs. Jones?  I bet you do: they’re the one’s that have everything.  Not only is their TV bigger than yours, but it’s HD.  You got DSL, well the Jones’ have the new T1 connection–downloads in seconds!

When it comes to blogging, there’s the Smiths.

Their website has hundreds of thousands of hits–yours only has a few; The Smith’s have readers all across the world, while you are more of a ‘friend-based’ phenom.   And, no need to add widgets to your blog, the Smiths will see your shabby widget and raise you a useful one.

I am not the Smiths, and I’m certainly not the Jones.  But I am a blogger with a busy life.  That means, especially the first month of school, my blogging and my site updates might be a bit sporadic.  When I talk with my children about the dangers of jealousy, I must remember my own.  I’m always telling them “be happy for what you have.  Enjoy it, and know that you could have a lot less.”

What does this have to do with The Secular Parent?

Well, I’ll admit I’ve fallen victim to the “I wish” syndrome: I wish I had more time to invest in my little blog; I wish I had the resources to make it AWESOME!!  And, I wish I had more readers–more people attracted to the idea of secular parenting.

I’m a teacher, a mother, and a wife before I’m a blogger–but I REALLY like being a blogger!  Just as much as the other ‘hats’  I put on, The Secular Parent (and secular parenting in general) is very important to me.  Ugh!!!

When my niece says “I wish we could buy that balloon auntie,” I try to let her know that we can make it a goal, but wishing for it won’t make it happen.  “And sometimes,” I say to those pretty blue eyes, “you’re perfectly fine without it.”

Can you apologize…to a kid?

Today was a great first day back to school.  Yea, it had it’s bumps: the students sat for an extra 15 minutes in the auditorium, distribution rooms were a nightmare, and I almost ended up teaching a class I hadn’t prepared for!

For the most part, it was a normal first day of school.  I came home tired, agitated, and in real need of alone time.   But I have kids; no alone time.  I also had to drive across town (in rotten, unusually difficult) traffic to grab my niece from daycare–I was late.  Wendy’s on the way home–no way was I in a mood to sweat in the kitchen.  So what happens?

My kids acted like…kids.

“There’s mustard on my burger!  I don’t want any mustard on my burger!  I can’t eat the burger” This was screamed through tears and wails.

“I spent money on that burger and you’re gonna eat it!”

“Mom, can I grab the pops out of the car?  Mom.  Mom. Mom can I grab the drinks out of the car?”  This said of course while I was yelling at the other one.

“This is not a problem that you need to come to me for!  There are some things that you don’t have to ask me for!”

“Okay.”  Her voice let me know I’d hurt her feelings.  I just wanted to be alone.

Ten minutes later, I’m realizing that I was a complete asshole to my kids, and I owed them an apology.  So I went downstairs.   I walked up to my nine year old and without hesitation I said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.  I had a pretty ok day at work, but now I’m tired and cranky and I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“I’m not mad at you mom.  Thanks for the Wendy’s.”  She rarely gets fast food, and she’s quite appreciative when it happens.  Now it was time to apologize to the five year old.  “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I said, looking her in eye.

“I love you” was her only response.

I felt so much better.  I felt like a responsible parent again.  Kids deserve respect, and yes, kids are kids.  But that doesn’t give us the right to take our grown up crap out on them.

Random Floats………

Every now and then it’s important to allow your mind to wander–Einstein came up with the theory of relativity while riding home on the bus, staring out the window!  Sometimes parents run out, overflow, or simply mesh all the thoughts in their heads.  HHere are some random floats of mine….

Is this the face of God?

I was sitting near the pool, and as the girls splashed and screamed, I looked to the sky.  At first, I thought “I’ll let my Facebook friends figure it out,” so I posted it.  But you know what, it DOES look like a face–with a rather prominent nose!  Wouldn’t be just awesome if a being from another universe was visiting, and decided, unobtrusively, to become a whispering cloud, while peeking in on us teeny humans?

Why can’t text messages be more grammatically correct?

I don’t know, maybe I’m asking too much here.  But I am ALWAYS getting crap for my text messages!  And, I HATE texts that are just terrible: “I need to get the paperwork” turns into “I need to getm the paiwrwork.”

America, you can do better.

It will take you five seconds, but it will improve your IQ by 20 if you make this crucial decision: spell check.  Being in a hurry doesn’t count as an excuse; me ‘knowing’ what you were meant doesn’t work.                                                   Spell check.  You can now join my new group Grammatically Correct Texts Now on Facebook…let’s start a revolution!!!!!           LOL….

Song lyric of the hour….and the winner goes to Pink Floyd!!!

I know there are those Pink Floyd haters, but for the rest of the (sane?) world, there’s this famous song lyric…know which song it came from?

“I’ve got a little black book with my poems in.
Got a bag, with a toothbrush and a comb in,
When I’m a good dog, they sometimes throw me a bone in…”———>

WARNING: this song ranks high on the top 100 most depressing songs ever written scale.  But, if you never know true sadness, can you ever claim to know true happiness?  Just a random float……

Job, bills, money, stress: can a child tell?

Both of the neighbors on either side of our town home have moved; one house has been vacant for nearly three months now.  It’s all cleaned up, spruced up (new doors, appliances, etc.) and its in a great neighborhood (elementary school within walking distance, low crime), but still no takers.  Why? The town home has now become out of price range for most people struggling after losing their job.

The kids who lived on either side are now gone, too, and it was easy for the girls to understand the logic: friend’s parents couldn’t pay rent, had to move to a cheaper home = you don’t get to see your friend anymore.

People move all the time, but the last year has seen more movement than stability in many homes across the country, and children feel it.  “All are friends are leaving this place,” my oldest said after learning that another friend (that made 4) was leaving our tight-knit corner of the town homes we occupy. “It’s because they don’t have enough money anymore because they lost their job.  Can we lose our job?” her tone was serious, no need to give her a childish response.

“Yes, I could easily lose my job.  I’m working hard to make sure that doesn’t happen, but everyone is doing that too.  If I lose my job, I’ll have to find another one.  It means things may be hard for a while, and yes, there would be a chance that we too would have to leave this house and move into a cheaper one.”

We talked through her sadness, through her tears.  She was afraid for us, afraid for her friends, and angry that things had changed.  “Your

Will you lose your job, mommy?

job,”I told her, “is to go to school, learn all you can, make good decisions with your mind and your body, and make it to 18 years old just as nice and sweet as you are now!”   A smile cracked through her gloomy face, and soon she was off playing.

It wouldn’t be the last conversation on the subject.

Most of the time, our children are aware of a families money situation.  I don’t believe in hiding why we buy the Price Chopper Brand as opposed to the Kellog’s brand; I want them to know that our choices are based on the available amount of money after rent and bills, period.  Often, the girls will watch me write out checks to all those happy companies the supply us with water, heat and electricity.  We’ll talk about responsibility, about buying want you need v. what you want, and how to hold off on our desires until “extra” money comes around.

I’m sure some really fancy book has come up with a “six step plan” for talking with kids about these sort of problems, but I haven’t read that  book yet.  All I know is that even young children are aware of the stress money, lack of money, and job issues place on their parents.

Instead of pretending it isn’t there, more parents should let kids see their success and their failure: the family’s in it together, sink or swim, right?

Would God bless a deserving Atheist?

I want to own a home.  I am a college-educated woman with a husband and two kids; we need a home!  Of course, we have been married only 4 years, I am a teacher, and I have student loans: we can’t get a home right now.  But I found myself doing some unhealthy comparing yesterday.

I have two friends:  Friend number one has been married less than a year.  She has no children, and she’s in education as well.  Her degree is beneath mine: she is a home owner.  Not only that, she is an evangelical Christian.  There are scriptures hung in every room of her house, she attends church (and volunteers on missions, and works at the youth Christian summer camps) regularly.  She has told me on more than one occasion that she is blessed; God has rewarded her and her family for their pious devotion.

Friend number two is also married.  We met in grad school, and I was so glad we did!  Her flamboyant personality always makes me find joy.  She has been married for a few years now, and has a nice family that includes dogs and a kiddo.  She also has no college debt (thanks to the parents), a huge, two-story house–in a neighborhood of huge, two-story houses–and she’s a teacher.  Not pious, friend number two is a religious person.  And while she may not believe that God has blessed her with a house, their are those in her family that would say so just the same.

Would God bless a non believer? 

This is the real question that was on my mind as I stood there washing dishes (in my horribly small sink).  I wanted to know if God had blessed them, and if God was punishing me.  Why couldn’t my girls–who do well in school, respect their elders, and are generally agreeable girls–have a room where the walls are painted purple with green polka dots?

And would God see fit, in his infinite wisdom, to bless a family that was spiritually bankrupt? If I prayed to God, would he give me a home?

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It would take an hour or so for me to calm down and realize what I was doing.  I was torturing myself.  I’ve always fought against the envy monster, but he really got the best of me yesterday.  I was sullen, down, and ready to compromise my entire philosophical system because my goals weren’t being reached fast enough.

Yes,  I do want a house, and yes, this is possible.  My credit score isn’t awful, and with some work it will improve.  This is my 3rd year teaching, which makes me eligible for all kinds of teacher home buying programs; eventually, I’ll be a home owner.

But even more than my goals…..I have much to celebrate in my life.  I have a husband of 4 years, a faithful, doting, loving husband.  I have to children, both healthy and very intelligent.

I have a job.

There’s no need to stare into someone else’s life and wish, beg, or pray for what they have.  The more we can pass this attitude on to children in a meaningful way, the less we will see adults kill for another’s baby, rob for a nicer car, and sit in their window and sulk when their life is full of such riches.

This blog isn’t for Haters

There a few people roaming the internet who have misunderstood why I write.  They see secular in the title, they see the word Atheist in my profile, and nothing else seems to get through.  The idea of a secular, Atheist mom giving thoughtful parenting advice is somehow  an attack on people’s faith–I don’t understand why.

I created The Secular Parent as a way to feel connected to like-minded parents; parents who identified themselves as non-religious, secular, Atheist, Humanist, and Agnostic and general freethinker.  Happily, some people have gravitated to the blog that have no children, but feel invested in America’s future–which means being invested in America’s children.

I did not create the blog to be repeatedly labeled murder (I’ve never killed anyone), Jesus hater (I don’t hate Jesus), or any other such mean-spirited comments.  Those types of comments are not welcome on this site, and will be deleted as I see fit, or by request.

The Secular Parent  isn’t for people who hate.  If you find the topics that I write about puzzling, angering, enlightening or otherwise of interest, then by all means please leave a comment!  If, however, you are trying to spread a hateful or intolerant agenda, if you’re only goal is to stir up trouble, please move on.

I have deleted quite a few posts in the last few days that are hateful in nature.  The Secular Parent is not for those people who take pleasure in spewing ad Hominem attacks, hate talk, or other disrespectful comment-posting.  I really love this blog, I love the comments, and I love the type of people that visit The Secular Parent.  I will not have this blog hijacked by people with malice in their hearts.

Please post your comments in a respectful and thoughtful manner, or don’t post comments at all.

I’d also like to thank those of you who take the time to reflect on the ideas behind the posts, and those of you whose comments serve to add to the greater conversation of raising children that are happy, healthy decent members of society and great citizens of humanity.

The Secular Parent

Mr. Irritated, or Mr. Racist?

So, I just left Sam’s Club (we’ll talk about the evils of Sam’s Club another day, I promise) and I’m completely freakin irritated.  The problem is, I don’t know if I should be.  Here’s the situation: I’m at the register, waiting behind a particularly irritated couple disputing a coupon.  I see movement out the corner of my eye, and I notice a Muslim family pulling into the next line.

I noticed, and the family behind me noticed.  My reaction: not much.  A slight glance and then I re-focused my efforts to unload my cart.  It is rare to see a traditional Muslim family in our neighborhood.   The family behind me had a decidedly different reaction.  The husband’s facial expression moved from the slight irritation that major warehouses naturally bring on, to one of utter fury when he saw the family.

His wife was clearly annoyed by his reaction.  She attempted to randomly mention people and things that were supposed to happen later that evening, but her distraction wasn’t working.

He continued to stare, and his face continued to crinkle up.

I started to stare at him–really, I wanted to cuss him out.  That (Muslim) family paid their Sam’s Club membership too.  They had a right to shop there.   As I left, I couldn’t figure out if I was angry because the guy was a jerk, or because the guy seemed to hate the air the Muslim family breathed.

I know that most Christians probably DON’T feel the way this man did (I call him a Christian because 95% of the people who live in my neighborhood identify themselves as Christian).  But, there are people (of all stripes) that have a ‘natural’ dislike of Muslims.  This shows an outlook on life that is detrimental to our survival as a species, and the threatens the future of our planet–nukes, anyone?

We can change this frame of mind, easily, by teaching children the beauty of difference, while allowing them to have a strong moral and ethical code.  By exposing children to many perspectives and by introducting multiple ways of thinking on a given subject, we can teach children not to fear difference.  Imagine a world where people viewed each other based on a moral and ethical code that included all people, and at the same time stayed true the principles of basic decency, basic logic, and sincere love?

All babies are born Atheists, aren’t they?

Okay, this is clearly NOT a yes or a no kinda thing….but it came up at a party, and I just couldn’t let it go.  It started with a conversation about bumper stickers.  My favorite bumper sticker of all time (which of course, I’m NOT brave enough to display in the Midwest) has the picture of a newborn baby sitting on top of the phrase: all babies are born Atheist.

It’s an awesome display of honesty; no child is born with a knowledge of God.  At the same time, no child is born with Atheism as their philosophy–and all freethinkers must and do submit to this truth readily.

A general definition of Atheist is ‘one who disbelieves or denies the existence of God or gods.’  By that definition, there’s no way a newborn child could be an Atheist at birth–how can you deny something that you know nothing about?  Now, that logic works for you, right?

What would happen if I were to say that a child could not possibly be born with any divinity, or spirituality whatsoever? Most Americans would instantly feel their blood boil at such a statement, but why?   Even the insinuation seems to be disrespectful.   But we have NO proof that children are born with a spiritual core, just as we have no proof that children are born with Atheistic tendencies: so why shudder at the facts?—> Unless, of course, I have overlooked an important FACT.

I contend it’s the best idea to raise children without any pretenses: Atheist or theist.  Why not raise children to be freethinkers: young people who are not wedded to a particular faith; rather, young people who are taught to analyze, research, and (eventually) experience the different faiths, until they have found one that suits them.  Or, until they decide that faith is not a requirement in their life, either perspective is ok.

So, Atheists, Christians, Muslims, Jews and everyone in between (inlcuding me): how about we educate our babies instead of slapping them with labels.  How about we broaden their perspective instead of boxing them into a worldview that worked for us, but may not work for them?  Just a thought?

Radiohead, mommy guilt, and reading books in the car!

This is going to sound really cheesy, but I swear to you it happened just like this.  My first experience with this lovely little book took place on the way home, after a get together with close friends.  “Take this book, I think you and the girls would like it.”  my friend said.

The book was Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible,  No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst  (book review to come later).

So the girls jumped in the car, we buckled up and headed out.  The youngest reads the title aloud.  She reads the first page aloud.  And all the while, I’m listening to Radiohead in the front seat.  And, I’m a Radiohead fanatic…….

Suddenly, “Mommy, I want to read this book out loud.  It’s funny.”

Now, for those non-parents, and new parents out there, this is going to sound cruel.  My initial response was “this is a good song!  Shh… You know the rules, car time means music for me.”  For the record, I invented the rule after a particularly long trip to Seattle one summer—girls argue!

“Please!!!” she whined.  I relented out of disgust for moms (like me, at least at that time) who don’t cultivate their budding babes, especially the ones that love to read!  You never say no to a kid who wants to read.  Ever.

So I was officially a lousy mom, at least that’s how I felt.  “Of course you can read it aloud.” I said, turning off the music.  And the youngest girl read everyone in the car a story…..

My daughter was so overjoyed..she read with happiness.  She laughed and stopped, and re-read.  She allowed herself time to study the pictures.   She was happy, my guilt was squashed, and, it was a lot of fun in the process!

Unitarian Universalist Churches: are they where freethinking kids belong?

In the Midwest, it’s hard to find people who aren’t Christian; they blend quietly into the spring colors, turn grey when the rains come, and hide out in the house on their computers the rest of the time (ehrr…).

So when a friend of mine asked to bring the children to her church, her Unitarian Church, I actually thought it would be a good idea.  That’s when it happened: memories from all the churches i’d ever went to suddenly floated into my mind.

I hated Church.  Hated.  I couldn’t understand a few things.  1: why did we do the same things EVERY Sunday, read a few passages, listen to the choir, and be told that god will help us if we eat and drink him.

2: no one would ever answer any of my questions in church, why did the babies die in the flood?  Why did god only take 2 animals each on the arc?  Why didn’t god ever answer, and how did we know he was real?  Was Jesus black or white?  What color was god?

But this wasn’t me, and the Church the girls would go to wasn’t a Christian Church…was it?

According to the Unitarian Universalist Association, “Unitarian Universalism is a caring, open-minded religion that encourages you to seek your own spiritual path. Our Faith draws on many religious traditions, welcoming people with different beliefs. “

That so totally rocks!  Come as you are through the doors of that Church!  The two major breakdowns of UU’s can be summed up in two perspectives: cerebral and spiritual.  Cerebral: you go for the community of it, listen for a while to the preacher(?) and then have good discussion time.  Spiritual, you seek to find a center, a balance, and all forms of spirituality are encouraged and accepted.

I’m a cerebral girl, and the church that the girls were invited to is also cerebral.  But should they go?  Do kids NEED a church home?

You can visit the Unitarian Universalist Association for more info. on who and what they are by clicking here.

Hitting You pt 2: Is spanking child abuse?

I want to apologize for not posting on the Bible as Literature today (that is the Sunday talk topic).  I feel that it’s very important to analyze Hitting You.  I thought it fitting to watch the video by Loudon Wainwright III.

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My Experiences with spanking

I come from a traditional black family, and traditional black families spank. I hated being hit.  What’s worse, I hated the conversation that always came after.  It went something like this:

Me: sniffle, cry, sniffle, cry

Parent: I didn’t want to spank you (Me (silently): so why the f*&^ did you do it then?

Me: silence.

Parent: I love you Coralee, you know that right? (me silently): people who love you don’t hit you.

Me: silence.

Parent: If you are good, I won’t have to spank you again.  Now, give me a hug and smile, it’s over. (Me silently: WTF?  You really want me to hug you and kiss you–you just beat the crap out of me!)

Me: silence.  Offers  a stale hug.

Parent: Ok.  Go play………….

Me: sniff, whimper.

Because of being spanked–some would say beaten–I’m incapable of raising my hand to my own kids.  Sometimes, I think that if I hit them, ever, I’ll lose control (like my mother) and  I will break them somehow: my ear was accidentally torn once during a ’spanking session.’  We ended up in the emergency room.  Once I was screaming so loud (before I was even hit) that the police ended up at our house; it wouldn’t be the last time they were called by neighbors because of my cries and my pleas.

I couldn’t hit my children because I had to work so hard to bring them into the world: after two 2nd trimester miscarriages, heparin shots in the leg twice a day along with a baby aspirin (to thin my blood enough to go through the placenta) every night for eight months, my daughter was born.  Repeat routine and you’ve got baby girl #2, my spunky youngest daughter.  After all that, I feel like I should be able to teach life lessons without pain–I’ve certainly seen enough in my own life.

But, just like Loudon—we all have moments where children push us beyond our rational thought.  We all get pissed off sometimes–hitting a kid is an easy way to relieve the stress.  But, does it give young people the skills they need to make better choices in the future?

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Reality bites, sometimes

If I step outside of my personal experiences with spanking, the picture is different.  My husband was not spanked as a child; he says that was the biggest mistake his parents made.  “I needed a few swats, because I wasn’t the type of kid to follow rules–unless the consequence for breaking a rule was strong.”  From his perspective, spanking is something that should be used sparingly, and only for the most severe of circumstances (running across the street, touching the stove, etc.)  Is he right?

Others  say that white parents don’t spank, and black (minority) parents do.  There is validity to this, though it is a stereotype, with only half-truths inside.  I”ve seen white kids get tore up in the store, and I’ve seen Hispanic children told “we will discuss this at home, until then, this conversation is finished,” by calm and focused parents.  I’m the only person in my family that does not spank their child(ren).  “Your kids are gonna run you when they’re teens…” that tends to be what I hear, along with the swivel of heads shaking back and forth.  “They just need a good a@# woopin!” —>I hate that the most.  NOBODY ‘needs’ to be beaten into submission.

The Bible says “Withhold not correction from a child: for if thou strike him with the rod, he shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and deliver his soul from hell.” (Proverbs 23:13-14) But I could never do that….does that make me a weak parent?  Will my girls ‘run over me?’  Do I have to beat my girls for them to love and respect me?  Barbara Coloroso says no, and I think her book Kids Are Worth It is the only way to go.  If you’re a spanker, grab her book.  Whether you agree with her or not, she offers a perspective on parenting that is realistic and honest…..a shining example of what secular parents could use as a model.  Did I mention that Barbara Coloros is also an ex-nun?

I feel sorry for Loudon, especially after I watched the video.  Every parent can remember a situation where their judgment, upon reflection, was either wrong or REALLY wrong.  Hopefully, the more thoughtful we are BEFORE frustrating situations occur, the less we’ll have to deal with the pain of regret.

Bras, under arm hair, and boyfriends: are these the new 9 year-olds?

As I watch my daughters go through life’s stages, this one by far is the most uncertain.  Under five, you know what to expect: diapers, tears, infections (ear, eye, yeast, etc.), and general ignorance of the world.  And so you clothe children in your love during those years, you keep them safe and warm.

Ages five-nine, you get all the ‘why’ questions to last a lifetime.  The baby face disappears, and what remains is the budding beauty of a person, not a baby….not you’re baby, but a young person that you begin to know.  Do you always like that person?  No.  Sometimes, you really tick each other off!  But I love 5-9: I call them the science years.  Pick your element, pick your bug.  The oldest: rock hunting.  She loved to find beautiful patterns in rocks large and small.  The youngest: bears.  That child became an encyclopedia of Bear facts–I learned more from her about Bears that I’d ever thought possible.

And when your child hits 8-9, things change yet again.  “My breasts are coming, I need a bra!” “I wish I was a teenager…” “are you supposed to get a new boyfriend to make the other boyfriend jealous if he dumps you mom?” “There’s hair growing under my arms!” “I don’t have a boyfriend, and all my friends do.”

I cannot approach my 9-year old like she’s ‘my baby’ anymore; my daughter’s questions are reflective of her developing personality/knowledge base: “Mommy, why would someone want to marry the same thing?  I want to marry a boy.”  “Why do people teach their kids to be mean to Atheists if Jesus said be nice to everyone?” “If my teacher is wrong about something, and I tell her, does that mean I’m being a ’smart mouth mommy?”

And I’m sure 9-year old boys aren’t what they used to be, either.  Kids today are maturing as quickly as new cell phones are made.  How are we supposed to keep up?  Parents must adjust to fit the fast-paced needs of kiddos these days: conversations will need to be shorter and more to the point, honesty will have to trump tradition, ‘the big talks’ will happen earlier, and making sure kids have plenty of trusted adults to talk with besides you (yes, you won’t always do) is the best way to prepare them, and youreself.

Since secular parenting requires–dictates, mandates–honesty with young people, my daughter’s maturity tells me it’s time to transition to mom: the guidance counselor.  She is no longer my daughter, she is a young citizen; she’s forming opinions and outlining her view of the world.  She will need me to interpret the signals she’s receiving from society in bite-sized chunks.  I can do it–and so every parent, so can you.  I’m just sad I had to make the switch at 9 instead of 13.  At nine, I was still playing dress up…

Praying to the God Poseidon, Why Not?

Poseidon: The God of the Sea

“Why don’t we pray before we eat?” my youngest daughter asked one day during dinner.   “Why do people pray at dinner?” When questions of ritual arise, honesty on both fronts is the best way to address them.  For that reason, my answers always have two components: why most people do it, and why I don’t.

“Most people believe that God is the reason they have food,” I told her.  “God gives you everything in life, and so you thank him every chance you get-especially before you eat.”

Then my husband spoke.  “We don’t, your mom and I, we don’t thank God for our food because God does nothing to bring it here; your mom and I both work, we buy the food, and we cook it.”

The room was silent.  The girls were thinking, the hubby was eating, and I was trying to give the children some “process time.” After a while I added “people used to pray to the god Poseidon, because he brought them food.  We’re reading about him in a book, the Illiad.  Nowadays, we all know that Poseidon didn’t bring anybody anything…but they didn’t know that in ancient Greece!”

“Who’s Poseidon?” the oldest asked…and you know what that means:  learning time!  After dinner, we did some research about Poseidon and the other Olympian Gods.  Essie was so intrigued and so fascinated by Poseidon, she yelled, “Poseidon is cool!  I wanna pray to the god Poseidon.  Thank you Poseidon for dinner!” She ran away happy and smiling.

For some reason, a layer of guilt slowly enveloped my thoughts.  Where was it coming from?  Am I mocking religion, I thought?  My daughter already knows that some people take religion VERY seriously; she also knows (thanks to watching snippets of The Colbert Report) that people poke fun at the more dogmatic views of religion.

Perhaps it was a mental hiccup associated with my Christian upbringing.  “You are teaching her to hate God.” it said.  That voice hummed in the very background of my mind: “You’re supposed to teach her to love God, or you’re a bad parent.”

But that voice is flat wrong.  I’m not teaching my daughter to hate God, or anything else.  I’m expanding the perspective of faith.  I’m not supposed to teach her how to feel on the subject of God; I am supposed to give her all the information she needs to decide for herself how she feels about the afterlife, and all the viewpoints associated with it.  I’m not supposed to program her like I was programmed.  Finding humor in religious dogma, is just as important as studying the valid ideas presented in faith.

So, is she learning to mock religion, or to respect it? She is young, and she goes back and forth honestly.  Religion has been wrongly placed on the “Podium of the Untouchable.”  Really, religion is just a philosophy-and all philosophies must be scrutinized; one philosophy must be compared to another for proper perspective.

For the last month or so, the god Poseidon–and for some reason, she also says “thank Peanut”–has been on my daughter’s mind.  She thanks Poseidon for everything, mostly in a silly, not serious way.  I don’t know if it makes her feel good to say thank you, to enjoy the ritual, or if she’s genuinely poking fun at the philosophy of faith.  She’s her own person, and I can’t figure out if it’s WRONG for her to thank Poseidon instead of Jesus.

Choose Bumper stickers carefully if you live in the midwest: The ‘Midas’ Incident

I have this awesome bumper sticker on my car:  it’s a black and white image of a man stepping out of a box.  The letters G O D are on the front of the box; the man still has one foot inside and is moving away.  The caption: Think Outside The Box.  (you can take a peek at it here)  I thought it was a witty way to both encourage free thought but also show restraint–there was one with a baby and the caption: All babies are born Atheist: that’s a no no in the Midwest!

Now, as a Heartland Atheist, I know that I can’t just put any bumper sticker I please on my car–and expect to have it in working condition after leaving it for a while.  In Seattle, it was common to see cars with upwards of 15 bumper stickers.  Here in the Heartland, you seldom see more than two on a vechile (this is sooo sad!  I love bumper stickers).

So, I went to pick up my car on Saturday from Midas.  While I was preparing to leave, a woman came out of the shop, and headed toward her car, next to mine.  She stopped short of getting in, walked to the back of my car and stared at the bumper sticker.  I was so excited!  I just knew she’d have something to say, and since my window was rolled down, I was expecting to hear it.

Responses typically fall into a couple of categories: a nice nod, with a complementary smile; a shake of the head, with short, inaudible grunts; and a full fledged argument with hostility (not my favorite).  So, why do it?  Because I have just as much of a right to place a goofy bumper sticker on my car as the next gal!

The woman got into her car, rolled down her window and said “you know, there were people against God during WWII, and they slowly disappeared.”

I hadn’t heard that one before.  “What?  Are you threatening me?”  She was a lady in her late 40’s, and her white face was contorted and swollen with anger.  That didn’t bother me.  What ticked me off was the threat.

“I don’t know why you people insist on ruining everyone else’s life!”  I couldn’t let her get away with that one, so I responded, “So, you should be allowed to have your ‘prayer heals’ bumper sticker, but ‘think outside the box’ is totally disrespectful.  Who decided this exactly? “

It was no use; her window was nearly shut.  It was a useliess fight that had just left both of us in a state of vitriolic rage.  Nothing was learned, and nothing was gained.  So, why did I engage her?  Should I have ignored her?  I fight this battle so often that I must have masochistic tendencies; but I can’t help it.  We’re never gonna change attitudes in the Midwest (and yes, close-mindedness is a horrible character trait, and should be changed) if we don’t start somewhere.

Thoughts On The Confederate Flag

So, I’m pulling into the driveway after work one day, and I spot a white truck off to my left.  The layers of brown-black dirt are caked around the bottom.  The back window of the truck has a full-sized Confederate Flag painted across, and two smaller versions are on the bumper.

I tried to imagine whose house the truck belonged to: it couldn’t be my neighbor’s to the right; they’re black.   It was parked no where near my neighbor’s on the other side, but they were white.  Did I live next to racists?  Wait a minute, I thought.  Is a person automatically a racist if they have the Confederate Flag on their car?

I try not to  prejudge.  When people make assumptions about Atheists-like, we assuming hate God, or that we have no morals-I get infuriated.  So, why was I prejudging this person, and his oft-used car?

Then I got scared.  The image of the confederate flag has always scared me.  I got lost once and saw a Confederate Flag above a door.  I was finding my way back home, in Mountlake Terrace, WA (not the most diverse neighborhood in the late 80’s).

Because I was raised in the north, where the confederate flag has ALWAYS carried negative overtones, that flag anywhere near me or my family has always meant that I should be on alert.  When I see the confederate flag, images of burning crosses and people in white clothes ravage my mind; I’m scared of people who have pure hate in their heart.

As I sat peering through my car window in the driveway, another thought emerges: am I being irrational?

The confederate flag is also seen by many as a symbol of southern pride in the Midwest; they argue that it has nothing to do with racism.  The flag, according to ‘the southern pride’ doctrine means love of the south; a love of the rich traditions and customs of the south.

I think that’s a cop-out. Whether you love the south or not, the Confederate Flag represents people who were satisfied with the enslaving of humans; the vast majority of Americans today are staunchly against such a thing.

But I’m new to the south; I’m a Yankee in the worse sense.  A tree huggin, recycling, soy-bean eating, flaming liberal! I am completely biased on the subject of the Confederate Flag.

When we talk about the Confederate Flag in our house, I try to put my bias aside and tell what we know to be true: The Confederate Flag was used by the KKK to shield malice and hate; the north invaded the south– murdering, raping and pillaging southern states like they were sworn enemies, not our fellow Americans–how is the south supposed to recover from that?  There are Americans today, born and raised in the south, whose families know these facts like it was 1865.  Southern people were given no recompense for the atrocities committed by the north.

Now, I agree with why Lincoln went to war. Slavery was wrong, and we needed our country to stay together.  At the same time, I must be fair.  Anyone who values the truth must honor the pain and suffering of our Southern ancestors.  Until we make amends and acknowledge these truths, and have them in school textbooks, the confederate flag will continue to hold the vitriolic emotion of culture that feels stripped of its honor.

Am I right?  It’s so hard to be an Atheist in the Heartland!