From one extreme to the other- this might be long

I definitely have some stories about religion. I have witnessed one extreme to the other, and honestly I've participated in some of those extremes. For the most part though, I have stood back and watched the train wreck happen.

My grandma has always been a hardcore follower of the Church of Christ. My grandfather, I never remember seeing in a church, until he was baptised at the age of about 74. My grandma raised 3 wonderful children, giving them the perfect Church of Christ upbringing. My mother got pregnant at the age of 19. The youngest, Eugene, got into heavy drugs and ran off from home at 18 doing any and everything he possibly could do to get in trouble. Tommy, the oldest, got married pretty young, and from what I understand he did a lot of the same things Eugene did as well.

I guess that backfired! Luckily for my grandma, my mother birthed me and she had that one last chance! Unfortunately, for her, and fortunately, for me, that didn't quite work out.

However, I will say that my mom and her ex husband, when he wasn't on a drinking binge, would take me to church here and there. Even though it was a baptist church, and we all know that the only people going to heaven are the members of Church of Christ, it made my grandma somewhat happy to know I was at least getting some kind of Jebus in my life. I don't remember much about it because I honestly never enjoyed it. I just remember the crazy preacher man standing in front of the church, with his face turning red, and telling us all that we were GOING TO HELL. From what I understand, that tends to be a baptist preacher kind of thing.

While we were going to this church, there were times that my mom's husband at the time would go totally dr. jekyl mr. hyde on us, and he'd either find another religion to jump to, or he would just sit on the couch and do nothing but drink for a month. He'd eventually stop the drinking when he would develop the beer gut that made him undesirable to the ladies (that's a whole other entry.)

My favorite religion that he found was Seventh-Day Adventist. For about a month he was going to informational meetings every week and then started going to the actual services. He tried every way in the world to tell my mother and I that it was the way. It was the only way. I am pretty sure he even tried to make my mom stop wearing makeup and wear more modest clothing. My mother of course didn't give in, and eventually he dropped it (probably because whatever woman was trying to get him into the church probably found out he was married.) So he went back to the baptist church and got his 3rd or 4th baptism.

(on a side note I have to throw this in there... Since they got divorced when I was almost 11, he has been jewish, don't know if he actually converted, and he is currently at some kind of baptist church because he called and begged my grandma to have me and my mother call him so he could get forgiveness. Loser.)

Let's fast forward from about the age of 10 to when I was about 23. I had only been to church a handful of times since my mom left Mickey. One time out of the handful of times I went was for my grandfather's baptism, where I was bombarded by my grandma and her church lady friends, because they were, and still are, convinced that I'm going to hell for not being baptised and accepting the jebus into my heart.

At that time, I'll admit, I gave it some thought. I mean, I have always felt this need inside me to have some kind of spirtuality. I have needed the comfort, and I thought that if I did let some grown ass man of god dunk me under some water, maybe I would feel some kind of awakening. I still didn't do it.

When my grandfather died, I did what a lot of people do after tragedies or major life changing events- I started going to church. I started going to the Church of Christ with my grandma. I went religiously trying to find my place. It felt right for a little while, but then I started noticing things that REALLY bothered me. If I missed a Sunday, I was made to feel guilty. If I missed a few, I was a horrible person and I was abandoning my poor lonely grandma. It also bothered me that my grandma and my great-great aunt, Irene, couldn't go without talking in the middle of the service and pretty much afterwards it was all about the social thing. I'm sorry, if I wanted to be social, I'd go to a bar, which is pretty much where I would go when I'd leave anyways.

I struggled with the realization, but accepted that church and pretty much Christianity was and still isn't for me. It's amazing that you can still have morals, believe in god, and be an all around decent person without going to church and labeling yourself.

A little over a year ago, I started dating Herbie, who is Jewish. Yeah, go on and reference that chick on Sex and the City, call me crazy, or whatever else. I became intrigued by the religion. I knew it was an important part of his life, yet he wasn't over the top about it, and he can still be a HORRIBLE person even though he's Jewish (I kid!). He introduced me to some of the traditions (food) slowly and I was all about it (the food). I wanted to learn more about the other things (non food related), and I started going to the synagogue, Congregation Micah, with him and really did enjoy it.

Now I guess about 5 or 6 months later, I really love it. Nobody makes me feel guilty for missing some services and they are just really nice. I knew when I saw the lesbian couple worshipping there in harmony, it was the place for me. Even though sometimes I feel like I have gentile tatooed on my forhead, nobody makes me feel bad for not knowing the traditions or for feeling a bit out of place.

Last night they had a Sukkot celebration with the services held outside. As Rabbi Laurie invited everyone to follow her out in the grass while singing and dancing, I laughed and told Herbie that there's a special place in hell for the Church of Christ girl who is singing and dancing at a religious gathering.