I’ve never met a Christian woman I didn’t want to choke… a little

Isn’t that an awful title?  Now before you shake your head in disgust and click off of my blog in search of something better, at least read my disclaimers:

1) I don’t consider the act of choking someone the same as strangling them.  You strangle someone to death; with choking, all you’re doing is choking some sense into them!

2) I don’t just have it in for Christian women.  I could easily replace that category with siblings, Republicans, former bosses, former Facebook friends, school bullies, Biden fear-mongers, Donald-Trumpers.  I’ll get around to all of them sooner or later, I promise.  But for now…

At 9:27am on Saturday morning, I knocked on my neighbor Janice’s door who lives up the hall from me.  She has a 2 bedroom apartment, where her larger bedroom is on the other side of MY bedroom.  Janice opens her door and greets me in an out-of-breath whisper, like a librarian running behind schedule.  She’s a boxy, dark woman who puts me in mind of Theresa Merritt who played Mama on That’s My Mama.

• ME:  Good morning.  I wanted to tell you, one of your kids, the 7 year old I’m guessing, is waking up around 7am and kicking the wall behind his bed.  I’m not a big sleeper-inner, but I would like the option.  Maybe he’s an early riser and bored waiting for the other two--
• HER:  They are not my children.  They are God’s children, and I am their foster caregiver.  I have children of my own, but they’re adults now and live far away.
• ME:  Yeah, anyway one of your foster kids is kicking that wall behind my bed.  Maybe he could go into the livingroom and read a book or look at tv until everyone else is up?
• HER:  My rules are firm, no television until 9:00am.  The children are in there now, watching cartoons and eating their cereal.  Did you know I am a minister of God?
• ME:  Yes, you’ve told me before and so have a couple others here.
• HER:  And your name is… Douglas?  Your birth name I mean.
• ME:  Uh… yes.
• HER:  The Good Book teaches us to love thy neighbor.  Are you familar with it?
• ME:  If you mean the Bible, yes.
• HER:  Wonderful.  Douglas, I want to pray for you.  At my next service.
• ME:  It’s really not necessary, but thanks.  Anyway I thought I’d come to you first before calling Steiner…
• HER:  I hope you have a wonderful day.  (She closes her door.)

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE KID!! 

Janice this isn’t over.  Furthermore, this whole “praying for me” nonsense is ticking me off.  A couple weeks ago I sent an old friend a birthday card.  This is someone I worked with in the early 90s and can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen since then.

She sent me a thank you email, and included the following in her message:

“I know you don’t believe in God but I pray for you everyday and will continue to do it, I don’t care if you like it or not!”

I’ve been hearing that for 30 years.  I NEVER SAID I DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD.  I said I don’t follow any organized religion.  Furthermore, I said that 30 plus years ago!  For all she knows, I’m a Buddhist monk now! 

I am a white man, free of debt & disease with a nice stock portfolio.  Surely she knows of someone (or ones) far needier and deserving of her prayers.

A few weeks ago, an old friend and former classmate decided it was time I knew she was a Conservative.  After picking myself up from the floor, I said “Well, at least you have the decency and smarts to have NEVER defended or supported the godawful monster that is Donald Trump”  and she said “As a matter of fact I did support our former president.”

After getting myself up from the floor again and asking how is this possible, she said “Well, I’m a Christian.  I don’t expect you to understand.”   SHE’S RIGHT—I DON’T!

But I care about her and if I ever find religion, I’m going to pray for her. 

Finally, my dear Aunt D.  For the first 35 years I lived here in the city, she would ask me the same question everytime she saw me.  It always went like this:

• HER:  Douglas, I neglected to learn the name of the church you joined after moving to Pittsburgh.  I’m assuming it’s Methodist in denomination, but you tell me.
• ME:  Aunt D, I have not joined any church since moving to Pittsburgh in 1987.
• HER:  WHAT???
• ME:  Furthermore, I’m not exactly a Christian.
• HER:   WHAAT?!!!

For a long time it bothered me to no end.  Then a few years ago, after developing TMJD (to the extent I lost 65 pounds as I was unable to eat for several months), she expressed so much worry & concern about it that I fibbed to her the Christmas before last and told her my TMJD had mostly healed. 

She said “Oh, praise Jesus.  Praise Him!”    If it makes you feel better Aunt D, I will.