I have trouble articulating my thoughts and feelings on religion.  My mom, however, does not. For a long time, after we had a nice long talk, she promised to leave me alone about my boys and our choices about religion. Apparently, the Christmas season has caused that verbal contract to become null and void.

Here’s what I can tell you to be absolutely true, 100%, at this moment in my life. 

• I was raised, baptized, confirmed, etc. as a Lutheran.  I have no bad feelings about the churches I attended or the things I was taught. I was married in the same church I was baptized in. My children have been baptized Lutheran.
• I was raised by my mother to question, to think, to be independent. Along the way, she failed to mention that she didn’t mean about religion once I had kids. Oops. Too late.
• MY God and I have a perfectly fine relationship. He provides an ear, reminds me to trust my gut and instincts, gives me the confidence to do what I need to do. He understands that I feel closer to him in nature and that I don’t need a building, a collection plate or a weekly sermon to believe.
• I don’t have absolute or blind faith.  I question. What about dinosaurs? What about other science? Why is it wrong to realize that the bible was a bunch of words chipped out of stone or whatever and that there may have been some liberties taken when it was translated a thousand times? Yes, I do think that maybe Steve the translator could have changed some words around – who would know?!
• I don’t pray for cures – God didn’t give me cancer, but he put people in my life that could help me. He allowed to me to trust and heal.
• I don’t pray for him to take away tornados or volcanos and whatnot – that’s nature, not God.
• I don’t think that God takes people to “a better place”; that the death of loved ones are part of a plan or that he needs them with him. Death is part of life. It always sucks, and sometimes more than others, but without getting too deep into it, please don’t ever tell me someone I’ve lost is “in a better place”. That’s bullshit.
• That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in Heaven – I do. I think heaven is where everything is perfect and wonderful and everyone you love is there and it’s beautiful. I imagine my grandparents hang out together, my grandma steals sugar packets and still chews Wrigley gum. But to say someone is better off being there than alive with me? Don’t think so.
• I understand the “true meaning of Christmas” as the Bible tells it and how I was taught. I also understand the true meaning of the season is to be charitable, kind and loving; patient, friendly and giving.

I haven’t been to church in a long time. My lack of attendance doesn’t MEAN anything except that the God I believe in understands sleeping in and family time on Sunday mornings.

My kids know the story of Christmas, the know the birth of baby Jesus, they know about Easter and Creationism.  They also know about dinosaurs and the big bang theory (uh, the theory, not the show…although, they would probably like the show a lot, too).

All of this is to say that yes, I was given a religious base in my life.  Yes, I talk to my God, and throw up a prayer here and there for others. I believe in a higher power for guidance.  I also believe in Fate, Karma and Luck. I believe in Santa Claus and the goodness of people.

I believe that if I raise my children to be generous, kind, loving, charitable, funny, compassionate, honest and live their lives with integrity, that I am doing my job as their mother.  

My mom, sadly, does not.  She thinks that I am not doing my job well enough because they know religious songs from Charlie Brown Christmas and don’t know the words to Away in a Manger.  That it’s sad that they aren’t in a Christmas program at church this weekend.  I appreciate her opinion, and I have offered to let her take the boys to church whenever she wants.  She always declines – which means it’s more important for her to badger me about it than for her grandsons to get the religious education she thinks they need, right?

For the record, I don’t hide God or religion from the boys. We’re very open about it and we talk about church – they don’t want to go.  Now, of course, it’s easy to say “of course they don’t want to!” because you’re maybe thinking that we discourage it – but we don’t. I’m very open about it. The boys have heard all about church – not just from my mom, but from me. Yes, I’ve shared my experiences – and I never once talked bad about it. They don’t want to go in the same way that Matt doesn’t want to sing in the children’s choir or Preston doesn’t want to play soccer: they just don’t want to.

And if (or when) they ever show interest, I am happy to take them. (ok, I’d be annoyed about getting up on Sunday morning, but I would totally hide that fact).

I have the utmost respect for people that are religious – as long as they don’t shove their particular brand down my throat.  I love learning about the religions of my friends – Mormon, Jewish, Catholic – I find them all very intellectually interesting.  I love that they have their faith and beliefs and would never begrudge ANYONE their faith.

So why is it so hard for my mom to respect MINE?