Take me to church

My Church in Nevada Iowa.  Beautiful Stained Glass.  

My mom and dad always took us to Sunday School and church.  They went too.  We had to memorize the Lord's Prayer and the 23rd Psalm. The kids in my Sunday school also went to regular school with me.   From an early age, I sang in the children's choir and then graduated to the adult choir.  After I learned to play the piano and the organ, I played for church, sometimes the whole service.  I think I mentioned before that my skill with the organ was very limited.  On 4th Street, we lived only 1/2 a block from our church so it was easy to be there as often as needed.  I was baptized at 10, a year early.  In our denomination we did not baptize babies. My mom was surprised at me asking to do it this year but I understood what the deal was and I believed-no need to wait!  I loved to go to Sunday evening singalong services.  That was the only time we sang the really old hymns.  Shall we gather by the river, the beautiful, the beautiful river that flows by the throne of God.  I loved Christmas.  I signed up for prayer vigils.  I also loved to go to church with Grandma Scott at the Maxwell Christian Church.  The Maxwell church is still there.  My church in Nevada is gone.  On that corner, someone built a house.  The membership of my Nevada Christian church built a new building on the outskirts of town.  I've never been there.

In my teen years I belonged to an All Girl Band with Cali Christy, Molly Wakefield and Deb Wells.  We practiced in the basement of my Church.  Deb sang "Venus was her name" and played drums.  Cali was our guitarist and was quite good.  Molly played the organ.  I sang, maybe played the tamborine.  We had a lot of fun but never had a paying gig.

So how old was I when I stopped believing?  Impossible to remember for sure but certainly the seeds of unbelief were sown long before I went to high school.  I read books about witches-what a bunch of BS.  I read Ayn Rand and for a short time was impressed with her theories. I read the bible, what an eye opener!  I discovered that people did not really practice what they preach and there is nothing worse than adult hypocrisy for teenagers.  So somehow between age 12 and 18, I woke to the reality that God did not exist. Since then I have wavered between atheism, deism, agnosticism and Dr. Wayne Dyerism.  Love you Wayne!

We all know that old saying that there are no atheists in foxholes.  Well there are no atheists in the delivery room and there are no atheists when your child or grandchild is sick or in trouble. I prayed in the delivery room and between 2008 and 2010, I used to recite the Lord's prayer in the elevator every morning on the way to my car in the basement and every night I recited it in bed to put myself to sleep, to comfort and sustain me for the hard things I had to do the next day.  Does God answer prayers?  If so, the answer for me is more often no than yes.

I can believe in a higher power that really doesn't give a shit about me.  I have evidence to support that claim.  But if God is omnipotent than he is responsible for everything that happens-whether in my judgement it is a bad thing or a good thing-he is responsible.  ALL things come from God.  I cannot give him the glory without giving him the blame.  And if God is not omnipotent, then what kind of god is that?

It was easier when I had the faith of a child, when I thought I knew the answers because I believed everything I was taught.  Finding your own way takes a lot more thought.

I will not try to convince you that I am right about God, faith or religion.  Do me the courtesy of not trying to convince me that I am wrong.

More 4th Street Memories

                        

I cannot figure out why mom is showing us these shorts.  Did she make them?  Are they shorts?  That is not her happy face so why?  Who took this picture?I think she looks like she is about Junior High age.

Is there anything better than summer when you are a kid?  Having a long free time to do whatever you want, no structure, no supervision.  When it was hot, Mom closed all the windows and pulled all the drapes to keep out the heat and it worked better than you might think.  My brothers and I would take out the monopoly game and play until we were tired of it or something better came along.  We left the game set up in the corner of the living room.  We played ball in the front yard, rode our bikes, walked the dog, went to our friends house. 

I think I was about 9 or 10 when I discovered the piano.  My mom and I were visiting a lady whose name I cannot remember.  She had a piano.  I sat down and started messing around, picking out tunes by ear.  The one I remember was "Onward Christian Soldiers".  My mom must have been impressed because next thing I know she bought me a piano.  It was an old upright and it was painted army green.  I started my piano lessons with the preacher's wife.  I was not a great student but I kept at it long enough to learn to read the music and my teacher let me play contemporary songs so I started practicing more.  I am sure my brothers will tell you that I played the same songs over and over and I did.  That is how you learn!  I also took organ lessons and soon I was playing at church.  I never was any good at the organ.  My Aunt Carol and my cousin Jean were much better musicians than I was.  I played for myself.  When I left home at 18 I did not have a piano for almost 10 years.  Finally I had enough money to buy a used piano for myself and I started playing again.  Still not that good, but good enough for my own enjoyment.  I placed the piano on the wall that adjoined the kids bedroom when we lived on 25th Street in Milwaukee, WI.  I played long after they were asleep and to this day I am sure that BK know the words to "Don't let the Sun go down on me" and others.  In 5th grade, music classes and band instruments and choirs started.  I did not play a band instrument but I sang in the Early Bird choir at Milford.  Why can't I remember the director's name?  I know Mrs. Hale was our music teacher in kindergarten and first grade.  Oh, wait!  It was Mrs. Bush.  We sang "This land is your land" for sure, but I can't remember the rest right now.  I did 5th and 6th grade at Milford, a school that was out in the country.  Nevada had a habit of busing city kids to the country and country kids to the city.  On the bus we would sing "From the Halls of Milford Prison to the shores of bubble gum bay.  We will fight our teachers in battle with spit balls, gum and clay.  First to fight for wrong and freedom and to keep our desks a mess.  We are proud to claim the title of the teachers number one pests!" 

My 5th grade teacher was Mrs. Gallagher.  She had red hair in a French roll.  She loved to tell us horrible stories of traffic accidents where people had their head cut off.  I loved her

My 6th grad teacher was Mr. Wolf, my first male teacher.  He had bad breath, dandruff and a habit of invading my personal space.  I hated him.  We did get to go to Mrs. Osmundson's class for math.  She was a great teacher and a welcome respite from Mr. Wolf. 

Milford was where I figured out that I was not going to be an athlete, at least not one that had to run. I am quite sure I was the slowest runner there.  Boys after girls, girls after boys was not a game I could compete at!  I went to the bars and twirled around and hung upside down!

I want to go back to 3rd grade at Central for a minute.  They used to bus the kids from North into Central for lunch.  The Central kids had a game that we had to get off the ground before the North kids got off the bus or we would get cooties.  Imagine my horror when I had to go to North the very next year!

I lived on 4th Street from the time I was in 4th grade until I graduated High School and left home for good.  I have lots of stories.  When we moved there I was a little girl who still believed that grown ups knew what they were talking about and that they always did the right stuff.  During that time I learned that my parents did not know everything, that they could be weak and foolish and make mistakes.  I went from my mom and dad are the smartest to my mom and dad don't know anything.  Both positions are equally foolish, but it was a long time after I left home before I learned that parents just do the best they can and hope for the best.