Tweet Look, I know I'm not going to fool anyone into thinking I'm Christian of the Year. Far from it. In fact, I may or may not actually be black listed from certain churches. That being said, I, personally, do believe in God. I don't care if you do or not or go to church or not or --- shoot - see, that right there is what stops me from ever becoming Christian of the Year... um, forget what I said about not caring. I do care. I care about your soul and will pray for you. Ok, probably not. Actually, most definitely I probably will not. It's not that I don't care whether or not your soul burns in hell - it's just that, well, let me worry about mine before I get all up in your business. You're a grown up, you can make your own decisions. I won't judge you, I promise.
Ok, that being said, I do feel it's my duty as a parent to expose my children to God and the 10 Commandments so they don't murder anyone or covet their neighbor's ass. So several times a year I shove them out of bed on an early Sunday morning and verbally spar with them right up to the point we walk in the front door of the church.
"Why do we have to go to church?"
"Because God really wants to see you."
"I thought He's everywhere; He can see me sleeping in bed."
"God doesn't want to see you sleeping. He wants to see you singing praises in church."
"That is so stupid."
"Don't let God hear you say that."
The days we actually attend church are hellish. The kids squirm, sigh, pick at each other, kick each other, hum rap songs and generally make me question if their eternal souls are actually worth attempting to sit through a sermon. The girls are 8 and 15 years old. Obviously old enough to sit for forty minutes but since that wasn't happening I decided to employ the no-fail behavior tactic called "Sitting in the Front Pew."
Up we marched to the very front of the church. A mere couple of feet seperated us from the minister. The girls would have to behave. The girls would have to sit still and silent and pretend to be listening for the entire sermon.
Except for some reason the minister thought this would be a great sermon to use the word "cockpit" several times. Each and every time he did the 15-year old would giggle and snicker, and turn red from trying not to explode. And then she'd lean real close to me and quietly say, "COCK pit." Then bust out laughing.
I'm thinking we'll be sitting in the back of the church from here on out.