Barbara Fairchurch

You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of hillbillies and fried food but of conservative Christian values. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of country music, senior citizens and homosexual entertainers. That's the signpost up ahead - your next  stop.................Branson, MO.

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Don't tell me you haven't been to Branson, MO. Shoji Tabuchi? The Titanic Museum? Tony Orlando? Tanger Family Outlet Mall? Jim Stafford? Golden Corral?  Ride the Ducks? Go-carts? Souvenir shops with an eagle flying over an American flag t-shirts that say Branson, MO? Silver Dollar City?!?! Religious themed zoos??!?! DON'T TELL ME YOU HAVEN'T BEEN TO BRANSON MISSOURI?!?!

Branson, MO is located just between whimsy and insanity deep in the rhinestoned valley of traditional values where cowboy hats and high wasted nylon pants reign supreme. It also happens to be thirty minutes away from my hometown Springfield and a place I frequented as a child. It is indeed like wandering into the Twilight Zone. You aren't sure what's real. You aren't sure what's farce and what's meant to be taken seriously. You aren't sure what the fuck is happening, but you are most likely having an amazing time and gaining roughly ten pounds while you're at it. All teasing and joking aside, Branson, MO is truly a magical place.


So when I found myself in the parking lot of the Doug Gabriel Theatre for the Barbara Fairchild Sunday worship service I knew I was in for another magical Branson adventure.


My dear friends Adam and Lucas live in Branson. I've known Adam since third grade when we were in theatre together. We sang in the same High School choir. We traveled to Italy together. We share a mutual love for laughter, food and Broadway musicals. He was the first person who introduced me to Waiting for Guffman and Janelle Monae. He is also the first person who ever officially came out to me as a homosexual.


I am who I am today because Adam was brave enough to be himself. I know this sounds silly and over dramatic, but it's true. Adam is an amazing person. No one makes me laugh like Adam - he fills my heart with joy. The devil can't do that. Adam wasn't evil or wrong or a freak or sick or any of the other crap I heard in my church about the gays. Adam was another one of God's amazing creations. Thus began my love affair with the gays and the opening of my eyes past what the church told me was acceptable to see. All thanks to Adam.

After Adam came out my devout Sunday morning prayers were quickly replaced by Saturday night spins on the glitter-dusted dance floor of the local gay bar. If church was going to reject of the people I loved then I  would just reject church.


Now, here I am. Dancing it up on Saturday and then dragging my hungover ass to a different church (almost) every Sunday. Since Adam was a catalyst for my church rebellion it's only fitting that he joined me for a chapter of my church reunion.

Me and my dear friend Adam

Adam and his amazing boyfriend Lucas suggested we attend Barbara Fairchild's worship service at a theatre in Branson. Barbara is a Grammy nominated country music singer/songwriter. Some time ago she gave her heart to Jesus and has devoted her life to Him ever since. She and her husband Roy have a ministry based in Branson that travels around the country.

Elaborate crystal chandeliers. Pastel pant suits. Fancy bathrooms. Corny jokes. A sea of silver hair. Oh yeah, I'm in Branson.

"We're here today to honor my late wife" Roy said as he and his black pinstripe suit took the stage. "She's always 15 minutes late." he concluded.  Married men and women turned to each other and chuckled. We then listened to twenty minutes of jokes ranging from marital issues to old people texting. "Do you know what BTW means to a senior citizen? Bring the wheelchair!" We were the youngest people in the audience by at least thirty years.

That's Gigi, Lucas and Adam. My church buddies for the day.

After that the service got...well...weird. It was weird. I felt like I stepped into the bizzaro world.


The service was a lot like I imagine The Lawrence Welk show would have been. The congregation is more of an audience - never participating, just quietly watching and applauding when appropriate. Roy and Barbara tell jokes, poke fun at each other, share their personal stories, sing solos and duets and have special guests onto stage to talk or sing.

There were three guest stars at this week's service show.

1. Bo Rivers - who got his name from a cereal box and lives in a small town in Texas across from the flea market. Those were his words. Bo was the most precious thing I've ever seen in his jeans and suspenders and cowboy hat. He had a Texas flag on his guitar and sang the sweetest song called "Me and God". He was a delight. I wanted to put him in my pocket.

 

 

 

2. Diane - Diane was something else. Something special. Something amazing. Dressed in a baby pink embroidered cardigan and floor length jean skirt Diane lit up the room with her warmth and sweetness. Diane is a big believer in the power of the Lord. Diane quilts, despite many people telling her she couldn't. Diane is blind, but through the love of God she has been able to create 840 quilts to date and travels the country showing her work and speaking to people. Diane has been featured on various TV shows and the royal baby himself owns one of Diane's quilts. She would never take any credit for her ability she always returned the praise to God. Saying "It's not me. It's all Him". I struggle with sewing a straight line, so I was pretty impressed. Check out Diane, her story and her quilts at The Amazing Quilter


3. The final guest was a lady with a sad story to tell, but due to nerves and sadness and a stroke it was difficult to understand what she was talking about. Her story was long and disjointed. I won't say anything more about it.


Barbara is a very sweet woman who gives all of herself to her ministry. She does a lot of good in the community - helping women get back on their feet after the various life events that can knock one down. This particular service there wasn't a sermon. Barbara did talk a lot about her relationship with God - at one point breaking down in tears saying "Isn't amazing? The presence of the Lord." Barbara mentioned her struggle to "love as the Lord loves" and said she was praying that he would open her heart to that kind of love. I interpreted this "love" as "unconditional love".

Lucas told me about a night where Barbara and her husband Roy tried to "pray the gay out of him". Banishing his unclean thoughts with prayers and pleas to God. My jaw dropped when I heard this. "And you were okay coming back to church today?!?" I asked Lucas. He calmly replied "Yup. It's no big deal. I didn't really care. I think I had a date after or something. We're all friends now. They're good people." Lucas is amazing and very confident in who he is. Clearly, he's got a head start on the concept of "loving like God loves".

 

After the service we ate an delicious lunch at The Olive Garden.


Sidebar: My Nana, who took me to Branson at least once a month and loved Jesus more than anyone I've ever met was a frequenter of The Olive Garden. It was one of her favorite places to go. Eating that delicious unlimited salad made me feel close to her though she's been gone almost nine years.


Adam and I sat at the table talking about movies and past memories and eating and laughing and laughing and laughing. My jar hurt by the end of lunch. It was such a treat to share a leg of my journey with these wonderful people. I am so lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life.





I'm sorry this post was so late. It was my birthday on Monday. I'm now 31. And so far I'm loving every minute of it. At lunch Gigi asked me if this journey had brought me closer to God . She was filled with questions. I paused and thought about my answer before replying, "I've become closer to myself - which in many ways is like deepening your connection to God, because I believe God is not separate from us, but part of us."

Going to church didn't magically make me a Hindu or Buddhist or a Christian. I can't say any of my religious beliefs have altered dramatically - though some have evolved. Mostly, I just feel more comfortable in my own skin and more connected to the world around me. It's been amazing and I feel truly grateful to have had the opportunity to embark on such a journey. Though that doesn't mean I might not skip a couple more church services before it's all said and done.


I'm off to eat my weight in Halloween candy! Enjoy!

InstaGod

It's forever implanted in my brain and probably your brain too. The mystical all powerful sound of dial-up Internet.

RRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAHIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSS
MMMMEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWKKKKKKKKKKKKKSSSSSSHHHHSSSSS


The true power of the Internet alluded me at the tender age of thirteen which is when my family purchased our first ever land yacht, er, i mean, desktop computer. It weighed roughly 600 lbs. The giant cream colored monster sat just outside my bedroom on our upstairs landing giving me an easy entrance into a world of magic. See, when the Internet entered my life I wasn't thinking about access to information....I was thinking about access to BOYS.

Internet chatting is an awkward chubby frizzy-haired theatre obsessed girl's dream come true. In this land of only words I was a fucking goddess. Where else could a girl like me date the star quarterback of the local football team? I totally had Internet boyfriends and delighted in coming up with phrases that would make them fall deeper and deeper in love with me. Men (or people who were pretending to be men) would send me pictures and Internet flowers (remember those?) and e-cards. AOL chat rooms with various sexual themes were a favorite pastime for me and my best friends. We would gather around the computer screen and entice people to say dirty things to us so we could giggle endlessly. I remember once a man asked me, "Are you wet?" and I responded very seductively, "Oh, yeah, baby. I just got out of the shower." The innocence of my thirteen year old self warms my heart.

By fourteen I had traded in my Internet boyfriends for a real live boy. In-person relationships were much harder to manipulate and maintain but infinitely more satisfying. There are certain things you can't do online...like hold hands or make-out in the stairways before class. And holding hands and making out in stairways with your teenage love are such magical experiences!


(Why did I write all that about the internet? Will I reference that experience later in the blog? Will it all tie in somehow? Was there any reason at all for telling you that story? We'll see...)



Flash forward a few years to a much more confident nearly thirty-one year old cat lady in a frantic search for an air pump with a tire pressure gauge. That's where my Sunday began.


I am a mostly responsible adult. I am not however, a grown up. A mostly responsibly adult maintains a job, has decent credit, brushes teeth regularly, sees a doctor at least once a year and a dentist every four years and immediately airs up tires when the little symbol on her Honda Civic indicates the tire pressure is low. A GROWN UP sees a dentist for cleanings every six months, cares about stock exchange things, is always on time, has a savings account and owns a goddamn tire pressure gauge.


Once again I am not a grown up.


So dressed in the long skirt and headdress required to attend a Sikh temple I drove from gas station to gas station looking for an air pump with a pressure gauge cursing and screaming at my dumb mostly responsible self for not buying a four dollar gauge the last time this happened. The Sikh temple was about thirty-five minutes away from STL and I refused to drive on the highway with low tire pressure, it's not safe and mostly responsible adults care about safety. So, I was running late.

Finally I located the ONLY air pump in the entire city of St. Louis that has an ever so useful tire pressure gauge and aired up my tires. The whole experience made me rather irritable so I decided a chai tea latte was in order. The Sikh service lasted two hours and fifteen minutes and I was quite certain I wouldn't be able to make it through without Starbuck's assistance. So I traveled to the county and got in line at THE SLOWEST STARBUCKS ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH.

Most of the Starbucks I have visited over the years understand that when patrons enter their store they are usually in a hurry and caffeine deprived and thusly quickly whip out tall white cups of crack juice. Not in Ladue, MO though. With only fifteen minutes to drive thirty minutes away I was rather impatient. The lady took what felt like hours to write my name on the cup. Is she using a calligraphy pen? Is she embossing my name on that cup? I don't care what you write just FILL MY CUP WITH CHAI!!!!!!!  Of course I said none of this and just quietly stewed waiting out the three hours (ten minutes) it took to make my drink. There was no way I was going to make it to church this Sunday. Nope. Not going to happen.

So...I went to Target and bought a tire pressure gauge. Guess who's growing up?

I thought perhaps I'd find an evening service, but quickly the day got away from me as I was busy organizing/redecorating Rebecca's attic/craft room/bedroom. I didn't want to miss two church services in a row and I knew a weekday service would be hard to manage. I found myself thinking:

Man. I wish church could just come to me. Kinda like you call a cab. Can I just phone in a quick church service and have it delivered like pizza? Maybe even pick what kind of meaningful message I want for the day and enjoy it in my crappy clothes while drinking wine? WHY DOESN'T SUCH A THING EXIST??!?!?!?!



But of course. Silly me. It does. It's called.....THE INTERNETS.

Online church is great cause your cats can watch too!

Church online. It's the wave of the future. It's even better than church on TV. You can download previous services based on what kind of sermon you want to hear or interact with a live broadcast. You can sample from various religions - although most of the online services I came across were Christian. You can visit a church in Idaho or London with just the click of a button.

So, with my borrowed laptop in hand I set out to find an interesting online service to visit. This was not an easy task. Partly because online church services are ridiculously boring and also because I had an allergic reaction to a bug bite and my throat started to close up and my lips swelled and I broke into burning hot hives. So, I paused the service I was watching about the supremacy of Christ in a post-modern world to take some Benadryl and recover.

Check out my sweet hives. Ouch! (this is post Benadryl)

 

I then proceeded to delve into the world of online church services visiting the following places:

1. A YouTube video entitled "Jesus Christ is Great and Over Atheism" by Tim Keller - the most boring thing I've ever listened to/watched in my entire life
2. A podcast of an Episcopalian Church in Scotland - pretty standard church service with a different accent. www.kemnaykirk.org
3. A Shabbat service that was mostly just one guy talking about stuff and wasn't at all interesting - check out PunkTorah.
4. A live broadcast from a church in New Jersey called Liquid Church (standard contemporary Christian worship stuff) there I got to interact with people via a live chat where we said exciting insightful things like "hi" and "where are you from?"


Many Christian churches now have a live webcast or recorded sermons for your viewing pleasure. With the help of modern technology you can experience the magic of hipsters playing guitars and singing corny praise music anywhere you go. No need to dress up. No need to leave your house. No need to talk with other people. Hell, just grab your smart phone, click the link and you can poop while praising the Lord.

Convenient, eh?

I spent nearly two hours visiting churches online and the whole experience left me....underwhelmed.

We no yike you Internet church.

 

Sure, I enjoyed viewing services while hanging out in my grubby clothes chilling in bed with the cutest but loudest two year old on the planet along with a bottle of wine and six cats. That was lovely. It was cool to be able to "experience" services in places I either have no desire to go to (New Jersey) or am unable to go to (Scotland). I could see how this could be a great resource for parents with loud children who cannot sit still during a church service under any circumstances (Margot Carroll) or people who are unable to leave their homes due to illness or mobility.

 

It's just....I didn't get a whole lot out of it. It was about as fulfilling as an Internet boyfriend. So much of church is the people and the noise and the nuisances and the interruptions and the mood in the room and the feeling you get when there are enough people in the congregation who can harmonize beautifully to Amazing Grace and the applause or the silence and the handshake or (ahhh!) hug from a stranger. These things cannot be replicated on the Internet and church just isn't the same without them. You can't snuggle an Internet boyfriend just like you can't shake the hand of your live broadcast chat friends.

 

Plus, I enjoy and prefer having religious experiences outside of my home. Just like I prefer to work-out at a gym and see movies in a movie theatre. There's something special about leaving your regular day-to-day life where you manage all kinds of things and going some place special where you focus all your attention on just one thing. The gym is where I go to focus on fitness (and socialize). The movie theatre is where I go to focus on films (and socialize). Lately, church is where I go to have time with and reflect on God (and socialize). Though, I firmly believe you don't need to attend church to have a relationship with the spiritual. A connection with the spiritual can be established anytime and anywhere. But, these past months I've come to really appreciate having a special place and time reserved for spiritual reflection. This week I think I would have done better sitting under a tree in the park rather than "attending" online services. But, you live and you learn and you buy a tire pressure gauge.

 

 

 

We'll see what next week brings...

 

 

 

 

 

Time is the Master

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say

Pink Floyd's "Time"
 

This is what happens....


Time starts moving faster and you start moving slower. It's horrible.


I remember a time when the days dragged on and on. They were never ending. Especially, if there was something special I was looking forward to in the evening or over the weekend. I would play on the swings, write some spelling words, practicing typing on the TYPE WRITER then read a book and yet the giant black and white clock hanging above the teacher's desk barely moved.


About ten years later in my twenties I noticed time picking up. I would write lists of things to fill up my day - Go to Target. Check out thrift shops. Create an art piece out of found objects. Make a costume for the gay bar. Bake a pie. Whip up 300 Jell-O shots. Think about writing that paper. Watch Dawson's Creek. Illegally download music. -  and found I could only fit in half of them. Where once the days were endless now they were limited....and I didn't like it.

But there was nothing I could do. Time not only didn't stop, it kept speeding up.

College was over in a blurry drunken glitter-dusted flash. The year I took off to "explore" (binge drink) lasted as long as a bad hangover. Graduate school started and magically I had a Masters and a career and a big girl mattress and a car payment and a retirement plan. One minute I was a sheltered little princess whining for more recess and then suddenly I was a grown lady freaking out over late fees and delighting in having the time to properly scrub my bathtub.


Trying to squeeze something else into my life these days is maddening. And I'm an unmarried childless non-homeowner. How other people get through the day is beyond me. As a child I was involved in everything - tap, ballet, vocal lessons, acting classes, youth group, gymnastics, etc. Now, when I think "Maybe I'd like to take an African dance class? It's only an hour." I quickly shut down the idea, because I can't conjure up a free hour anywhere. Where once hours were quickly used up and discarded like candy wrappers now they are endangered species on the verge of extinction.

WHERE DID ALL MY HOURS GO?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!???!?!?1!!?!??*!??!


Right now I have a sink, refrigerator, freezer, cabinet, desk and closet full of dirty dishes. I haven't scrubbed my tub in weeks which is fine because I don't have time to shower anyway. I completely forgot about THREE of the bills I was supposed to pay this month (I DO NOT FORGET TO PAY BILLS). I have roughly four dozen unfinished craft projects sitting around my apartment. I haven't had time to go to the grocery store so I've been eating the expired yogurt the kids can't eat at the preschool for my meals. I haven't had time for a work-out in ages. I have "to-do" lists from August still unfinished on my work desk. I haven't even had time to enjoy a glass of wine lately! I owe pretty much everyone in the world a thank-you card and I need to make a Halloween costume and plan my birthday that I'm too tired to celebrate and I should probably start Christmas shopping and HOLY HELL WHEN DO I HAVE TIME TO GO TO CHURCH?!?!?!!!!!?!?!

Whew. That was a lot. I'm sorry. I'm full of feelings today.

Saturday night I searched and searched for a church that met at a convenient time on Sunday. Every service I found was impossible to fit into my schedule.  Sikh's met too far away and for too long and I didn't want to cut the experience short. There was a biker church in St. Gen that sounded amazing but that's two hours away. The Taoists do an online sermon, which felt like a cop-out. I planned on attending a Nation of Islam service until (so glad I researched that one) I learned they were considered a hate group and were not too fond of white people - this journey isn't really about challenging other people's beliefs, if they don't want me there, I don't want to be there.

Finally I settled on a Muslim Mosque. Why, you ask? Because they have five services a day every day. LOTS OF FLEXIBILITY. It's just....I haven't gone yet. Sunday was a SUPER busy day and Monday was even more hectic. Today I am committed to cleaning my fucking apartment head to toe and Wednesday I am going to the doctor in the morning and I HATE GOING TO THE DOCTOR so the rest of the day will be dedicated to sitting in silence drinking in the dark. So, that leaves Thursday or Friday my friends.

I know..I know...all this just to tell you that I haven't been to church yet. My apologies.



This is one of the biggest downsides of wanting to do ALL THE THINGS.

You can't.

You simply can't.

You'll never have enough time to do all the things. Even if you live to be a hundred and three. Even if you use TONS of speed and have lots and lots of money - you still can't do all the things.


So, I'm working on letting go and trying to be happy with what I CAN do...

The world will not come crashing down if I pay a bill two days late. I am not a complete failure if I gain 20 pounds of stress weight. (didn't mean to rhyme there) Housework CAN be done later, but maybe I don't have to attend EVERY social event that comes my way. It's okay to stay home alone and scrub the tub - that doesn't make me a loser. It's okay if I miss a church visit here and there - this is my journey and my life and I have to do what's best for me. I don't owe anyone a blog post. This is about me, not my readers.


So...if I make it to church this week, you'll have another post to read. If not, I'll just post some pictures of my newly spotlessly cleaned apartment. You know what they say....cleanliness is next to godliness.

Baha'i on Life

Tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen
Grab myself a handful of chicken
And eat and groan and try to come to life.

Slap on some make-up so I don't look scary
Pull up some tights cause my legs are quite hairy
Hop into the car and drive to the Baha'i's.

 

 

I knew (almost) nothing about the Baha'i faith. I didn't google it or check out the Wikipedia. Their beliefs and customs were unknown to me. Rebecca stated they were against drug and alcohol consumption and weren't fond of the gays. That's it. That's all I knew. So when Sunday morning rolled around and I found myself taking a seat in a windowless room at the Baha'i Information Center in Webster Groves I had no idea what I was in for.

 

 

 

But I should have known, like always, I was in for an adventure.

 

 

 

 

Greetings come in various forms and over the past ten months I've experienced them all. There is the basic "hello". You've got the quiet nod of acknowledgement. The faint smile and humble hello is a personal favorite for meeting new people. A handshake and "hello" is standard - men really flock to this one. There's the handshake, "hello" and introduction - a very professional greeting. The upper arm/shoulder pat drives me insane and makes me hate you instantly. Side hugs and hellos are also ridiculously uncomfortable. Full on hug introductions are acceptable from strangers in the following categories - gay men, pagans and women over eighty. Cheek kiss greetings are reserved for Europeans and people I find attractive. Full on mouth kisses are solely limited to family members (who for some reason love this form of greeting. i know, it's weird for me too), lovers and drunk people in the streets of St. Louis after the Cardinals win the World Series.  

 

 

"The Greeting" is an exciting part of visiting a new church. Like violins and candlelight, it sets the mood. The mood at the Baha'i Info Center? Ridiculously warm and welcoming. Rebecca and I were quickly approached by nearly all of the forty attendees to the Super Soul Sunday service held the first Sunday of every month. Rebecca was a hit with her hot pink hair. She was welcomed with smiles and "you go girl!" remarks as well as little girls who desperately wanted to speak with her and touch her exotic pink tresses. People said "hi" to me too, just not with as much exuberance. Going places with Rebecca is a lot like being the unfamous date of celebrity. We were showered with handshakes and hellos (luckily no hugs or kisses) and information about the service as well as questions about our lives and why we were attending service. This was a talkative friendly group.

 

 

 "Didn't I leave you in Honduras?" said the giant man in a bright blue windbreaker striding across the room with his eyes fixed on Rebecca. "Uh?" she smiled as he remarked how similar her appearance was to a girl he knew in his previous home. He shook Rebecca's hand and introduced himself. Then turned to me and as I offered my hand said, "Don't I already know you?" Of course he didn't. I would remember this guy. He snuggled into the chair next to me and butt cheek to butt cheek he asked me about my spiritual journey, because he said he could tell I was on one and had been for some time. He also knew I could sing - explaining that I was omitting singing talent vibrations.

 

 Time for service to start...
 

 

 

Baha'i services aren't run by clergy. There isn't a pastor or minister or designated leader - all members share the responsibility of gaining and sharing knowledge. This particular Sunday a curly haired man in Harry Potter glasses named David was leading the service. The children were asked to come to the front of the room. A girl in mismatched socks and sparkle shoes read a passage from a children's prayer book and struggled with every third word. A dark headed waif of a child in a baby pink shawl read a scripture verse. A charming little boy with an overbite belted out a quick song. The eldest girl in the group played a song on the piano. Every child, all eleven of them, either spoke, sang, prayed or played. 

 

Two of the adult ladies led the group in song. There was no hymnal or song sheet. There were no giant television screens or praise bands. We used our hands to make rhythms and our voices to make harmonies. I tried my best to follow along, because I indeed LOVE to sing. Most of the words were simple and repetitive. That is until we sang in other languages. Then I just made crap up and mumbled. We have come to sing praises to our Lord. We have come to sing praises to our Lord. Lollipop? Shu-mu-my lollipop? Yes, we have come to sing praises to our Looooooorrrrd.

 

No one seemed to notice.

 

 

The children were dismissed to another room for the children's program and the adults remained in the windowless room. We moved our chairs from against the wall to form a circle. It was agreed  we would do introductions so the new people (me and Rebecca) would know every one's name. Each person was to state his or her name and then say a "gift" they brought to the group. There were various gifts in the room - teaching, hope, laughter, love, kindness, curiosity. Rebecca said she brought the gift of color and indeed she did. I brought the gift of an open-mind. I remember many of the gifts brought to service that day, but not one single name (other than David whose name was repeated throughout).

 

Now begins the discussion/study part of the service. Baha'i's are a unique faith in that they believe in the validity of all other religions...well....kinda. They believe in oneness. Oneness of God, Oneness of Religion and Oneness of Mankind. As far as I can tell from the various pamphlets I was given during the service, Baha'i's believe that Jesus and Krishna and Buddha, etc were all Messengers of the One God, but their messages were thousands of years ago. Baha'u'llah, whom Baha'i teachings are based on, is the Divine Messenger of today. Baha'u'llah is the latest Messenger of God.

 

 

 

The adult discussion focused on how to talk to people about their faith. Practicing different communication styles we role played out scenarios - from talking with people about their workday to discussing Jesus and eternal life.  Their tactic is always to agree, because they believe in the Oneness of Religion and God and Mankind. Throughout the discussion interesting facts about the Baha'i faith came to light. They believe in racial equality and the equality of the sexes. They do not support discrimination of any kind. They work to raise their children without prejudices. Universal education and the unity of science and religion are other focuses of the faith. We are One Family according to the Baha'i faith.

 

BOOM! That's right! I got my world citizen card courtesy of the Baha'i's.

 

Role playing was actually quite fun. People were loud and silly and full of energy. Rebecca and I laughed along with a group of diverse, interesting, engaging, lively and entertaining individuals. Amidst all my laughing I found myself thinking - I really like this. This is so much fun. These people are great. Maybe I'll come back here. We have so many of the same beliefs. I like this whole many paths to God thing. That's what I've always thought. It's kinda like having lots of "best friends" sure Jesus is my best friend and so is Buddha, but that doesn't necessarily mean I follow every single thing they say. Maybe the Baha'i faith is the religious smorgasbord I've always searched for. Plus I'm a huge believer in racial and social equality as well as the equality of men and women. Hmmm....

 

Every time I pass through a church door I try to clear my mind - like a sherbet cleanse. I think of the pagan woman who asked me "Do you enter with an open-mind an open-heart and an open-body?" and I try to remain open to the experience I'm about to have. No judgement - just experience. But sooner or later at every church I've visited something has happened that turns me off. With the Quakers it was the need for plain clothing. Ha! As I type in my red cowl neck dress and mustard yellow "old man" cardigan - please - plain clothes ain't ever gonna happen. With the Buddhists it was giving up all worldly possessions and relationships and awkward chanting. Not for me. With the Catholics it was all the guilt and hell damning. Screw that. With the Christians it was....well, lots of things. Some visits it happened early on. Other visits it happened smack in the middle. Either way, it always happens - the moment when I no longer like the service/religion and want to leave.

 

With the Baha'i's it happened when we started to talk about the gays....

 

 

*Sidebar - I'm tired of talking about gay issues at church. My life is like a gay pride parade - it's constantly raining glitter and fabulous. Gay is all around me and it's wonderful. I wouldn't want it any other way. My life is amazing. It's just...I know people are still working through this whole "Is it okay to be gay?" thing and trying to figure out where God fits in with the issue. But I'm really losing my patience and I'm starting to get angry. GOD LOVES EVERYONE NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! Can we please talk about something other than gayness? Please? PLEASE!!??!!! Anything. Syria. Gun violence. The afterlife. Mysteries of the universe. Tacos. A.N.Y.T.H.I.N.G. *

 

 

Gayness follows me. I cannot escape it. Long ago I accepted that I indeed have magical gay powers and everything I touch turns to gay. So, I should have known the Baha'i service would eventually start heading down a gay road...and it did.

 

Out of nowhere the conversation turned to David's son, who recently realized he was gay. David was very supportive of his gay son - standing up for his desire to wear skirts and make-up at school. David's son felt for some time that he was transgender - living life as a woman in a man's body - and started expressing himself as such. David beautifully described how God didn't see gender or biological sex. God only sees our soul and our souls are without gender or biological sex. It's not your human body that matters - it's your soul. Up until this point I appreciated everything David had to say about gender and homosexuality.

 

Then things got sticky...someone brought up the issue of having sex.

 

Baha'i's are to refrain from sexual activity until they enter into a religious marriage - and the only marriages recognized are marriages between...you guessed it...one man and one women. The Baha'i faith doesn't exactly condemn gay love. They are big believers in legal marriage equality and protecting gay rights.  And you can totally hold hands and talk and snuggle and share your deepest darkest secrets with your same-sex partner, but you can't have sex with him or her. EVER. Not even oral. Nope. Not okay. If you are gay and you follow the Baha'i faith you are expected to practice life long chastity.  

 

 

AND THAT'S WHEN SARAH STEPPED OFF THE BAHA'I BOAT.

 

 

WHAT?!?!?!!!!! Does God hate gay people? Cause that seems like lifelong punishment for being gay...the way God made them to be. What kind of God does that? Here ya go, here are all these desires and feelings and instincts but DON'T YOU DARE DO ANYTHING WITH THEM OR I WON'T LIKE IT! Also, if God doesn't see the physical body and only cares about the soul then why does God care about gay sex or sex at all for that matter?

 

No really, why does God care if we have sex? WHY?  See, I don't think God cares. Not even a little bit. I think God could give two shits about where you poke your pickle or who's dusting your closet. I think sex is a good thing - not a curse, or a punishment or a test of will-power. It's a great stress reliever - like all natural Xanax. It's a sleep-aid. It helps you deal with body issues. It can give you energy. It makes you happy. Maybe God created us with these "feel good places" because God wants us to...I don't know...feel good?

 

There was a woman at the service, a gay woman, who talked about how hard it was to be chaste but  she knew this life was only but a blip and that her devotion would be rewarded in the next life.

 

This just does not make sense to me. AT ALL. This Earthly life is but a test for the next one? Baha'i's don't believe in a literal hell or heaven, but instead gauge heaven and hell by your closeness with God. So, apparently God is King Candy and having gay sex is like drawing that horrible gum drop guy when you are half way through with Candyland (the children's game) and are now even further away from a heavenly ice- cream palace finish. It helps me if you can explain things in preschool terms. Candyland exhausts me and I really think God can do better.

 

After the service the nice man sitting next to me talked about how having standards is so important. I questioned which standards you are supposed to follow because lately I've found everyone is claiming different standards as "God's". He was very understanding and explained that the great thing about Baha'u'llah is that he was truly a messenger of God and spoke the truth.

 

Uh huh. Right. Thanks. Gotta run. I need a drink - which you do not believe in.

 

 

 

This sex loving booze drinking spiritual enthusiast left church and headed straight to Cherokee street for some authentic Mexican cuisine and a delicious homemade margarita. I said a quiet prayer for all the gay people around the world who have been led to believe they shouldn't live a happy and full and SEXUAL life because of their orientation. I wish you all many wonderful orgasms and lots and lots of post-coital snuggles.

 

 

 

 

I'm so glad I finally made it back to church.

 

 

 

Cheers!

 

 

 

The Blog Will Come Out Tomorrow

It's take all of 5 minutes to make a video...but nearly 3 hours for me to write a blog post.


So...

Until then my friends. Until then...

Sarah Goes To A Funeral

Our sweet baby boy

 A few years ago we lost our family dog - Oscar.

 Like so many family dogs Oscar got sick. Really sick. There was nothing we could do, but let him go peacefully.

 I never had a pet growing up. My mother was  always allergic. I had a few fish. They were underwhelming.

 Oscar was our first real pet. He came to us one cold night during the Academy Awards (thus his name) and warmed our hearts with his charming overbite and deep love of bacon. My mother fell in love with him after only two hours and suddenly we had a dog. Oscar was a gem - who magically didn't trigger her allergies. Saying "turtle" would send Oscar into a barking frenzy. My brother and I loved to mimic Oscars sweet bark that sounded kind a lot like a ferocious chicken. Oscar got two walks a day from my mother who adored the ground Oscar pooped on. We would tease my mother that Oscar had quickly become the favorite child, because he was. If I pooped on the dinning room rug I would have been banished and told never to return. He had a million nicknames - Oscar Meyer, Oscardoodle, Oscardo, Oscar the Grouch, Baby Snuggles, etc.

So dapper. This is Oscar on "Oscar Night".

When Oscar got sick I drove down from St. Louis to be with my family. Holding Oscar in our arms we drove to the vet where a very kind and understanding lady injected death serum into our beloved fury friend while we all cried hysterically. Then we carried our lifeless dog to a grave out in the country at our friend Gale's house and covered him with dirt and cried some more. It was brutal. It was a horrible horrible day. Standing around the kitchen like zombies we hardly spoke. There was no drinking or merriment that night like usual. We were (barely) walking dead.

I never wanted to have a pet ever again. EVER. In fact, I never wanted to love anything ever again. Losing someone you love is just too freaking painful. Then, it hit me. Like a Flaming Lips song, it hit me.

Oh dear God, I'm going to have to go through this agony for every single being I love. My cat. My bro. My Mom. My friends. My co-workers. My kids. Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Every one I know, some day, will die. Mother of poo why have I loved so many freaking people?!?! It's like setting myself up for a lifetime of pain and torture!!!! I could lose anyone at any minute. Oh dear God! Why have I done this to myself?!???!!! WHY?!?!?!?!?!

Losing a dog was hard enough, but now I was faced with the hard truth that I was sooner or later going to lose everyone I ever loved. It shut me down. This was NOT my first experience with death, but it was one of the first times I lost someone I chose. I couldn't choose my family and therefore their deaths didn't bring up this feeling for me. But this new found sadness shed light on a painful realization - the more beings I choose to love the more beings I will have to mourn when I lose them.

Sitting at the kitchen counter with my mom I expressed this new realization. My Mom, as always, had simple yet profound wisdom to share. The exact wordage escapes me, but I remember the message and it was basically - You can't run away from love just because you might one day lose it. A life without love isn't much of a life at all.


But there's that moment when you lose someone you loved and it's so painful and heartbreaking that you think to yourself "I can't ever go through this again". This has happened to me after every break-up I've ever had. I say to myself and anyone standing nearby "I AM NEVER EVER FALLING IN LOVE EVER EVER AGAIN!!!!!" but then after twenty pints of ice cream and roughly one hundred bottles of wine my heart is magically healed and I'm ready to take on love again.

It's strange. Even though you know every relationship you will ever take on will eventually end in death, it's impossible to stay away from them. Because love is magical and wonderful and worth the pain...mostly.

A few weeks ago Rebecca called me with one of the greatest surprises of my life - she had rescued eight kittens from certain death and we would be having a KITTEN PARTY all weekend. Six two-week-old kittens came into my life along with their ten-month-old mother and six-month-old friend. These babies were precious. We snuggled them and cleaned them and fed them and watched them learn to walk and named them and ooohhh and awwwed over them. Various children came over to play with the kittens and it was both very stressful and delightful watching young children experience the magic of the first weeks of a kitten's life.

 

Two favorites emerged - Louie, a large extra fluffy kitten with bright blue eyes and an affinity for post-eating snuggles and Monica, the scrappiest of the bunch with a tenacious spirit and a meow that would even pierce God's ears. We loved all the cats, but those were our early favorites. We would all lie on the giant king size bed and let the kittens walk over us, revelling in their sweet innocence. It was picturesque.

Then Tuesday morning, something happened, Rebecca texted me....Louie was dead. It came out of no where, she was a healthy little eater with such a sweet heart. Rebecca was beside herself. We were no longer having a kitten party. Now we were planning a kitten funeral.

Rebecca set me on the task of explaining Louie's death to her two children - Soren (age 5) and Margot (age 2). I'm a children's therapist, so putting hard topics into kid-friendly terms comes easily to me. But having to say over and over again that Louie was "never coming back" and we were burying her "in the ground" made me tear up. Death isn't an easy concept for a 30 year old, let alone a 2 year old.

Soren and I picked out flowers (and wine) at the grocery store and we decorated a cardboard box for Louie. Soren drew a picture of Rebecca for the resting box so Louie could always be looking at her face. We folded up some white satin for a soft resting surface. I painted a grave marker for Louie. For a break in the sadness Nathaniel (Rebecca's husband) and I sang "Memory" from CATS...Rebecca found this unamusing. We all have our unique ways of saying goodbye. I can only be serious for so long.

With lit candles all around we laid Louie in her resting box, placed her in a deep hole Nathaniel dug in the backyard, covered her with dirt and said a nice word. We laid the flowers over Louie's grave and placed the marker in the dirt so we could always remember our dear friend Louie.

It was sad, but kind of beautiful. Death is a part of this sad, beautiful, hard, confusing, magical life.


Through her tears Rebecca cried out an all too familiar statement, "What was the point if she was just going to die? I'm never doing this again!"

Then I shared the words of wisdom my mom had shared with me after Oscar died. Louie would have died alone starving the cold, but instead she knew great love and sweet snuggles, because Rebecca cared enough to rescue eight abandoned cats.



There are various beliefs about death in my family and circle of friends, but I don't think what you believe or don't believe about "the afterlife" matters. Not really. If angels or reincarnation or heaven or reunification with loved ones brings you comfort then I think that's wonderful. Go with it. Who am I to say these things aren't real or true? I can only remember this life. I only know about the here and now - and honestly I barely know about that. To me, it's not what you think about death that's really important, it's what you think about life and how you treat the living. And I think life is about love and therefore choose to love at (almost) every opportunity. Though love has cost me great pain and heartache and sorrow, nothing has ever brought me such great joy or hope or fulfilment as love.




Rest In Peace little Louie and know that you were loved.