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Okay, I still go to church on Sundays. But at least for now, Traci and I have suspended our “Beth and Traci Go to Church” women’s ministry visits.
Today at Grace Kids Camp (remember what used to be called VBS?), Amy C. asked me about the Traci adventure.
“Does she hate you now?” she asked.
(more…)
There we were, back in the saddle or more accurately back in a basement church room with a bunch of earnest Christ-loving broads but in this case a portrait of the pope. Two hours of Why Catholic?—“a unique adult faith formation process solidly based on Sacred Scripture, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and updated to include citations from the newly published United States Catholic Catechism for Adults.” The group leader told us that “the program is book-driven, but we don’t use the book very much.” Renegades. Cool. I can relate: This one time, in high school, I totally missed curfew so I could finish watching My Fair Lady with my friend’s mom. True story. And if God didn’t want me to stay out till midnight, he shouldn’t have made Audrey Hepburn so enchanting as Eliza Doolittle.
Back to the basement room: The elements I’ve grown accustomed to were there, like the “us against the secular world” line of chatter, which from where I’m sitting with the cohorts in my teeny minority sounds dubious at best, and speaking of dubious, has anybody else heard that Karl Rove is an agnostic? Not that I want to claim him, but the irony of his nonbelief adds a new layer of evil to his program of Christian manipulation, does it not? Hypocrisy, I mean, just so we’re clear.
Traci and I are officially back in the saddle.
As the title of this post suggests, you’ll soon enjoy the treat of reading Traci again. Specifically, you’ll read her take on a visit we had with some lovely suburban Catholic sisters two days ago. (Not that kind of sister.)
Stay tuned…
For the three of you wondering what ever happened to Beth and Traci Go to Church (Hi, Helen, Jim and Benjamin!), we wanted you to know we’re still here.
As you may have noticed, we haven’t posted since February. (February? Really?) Or maybe it was March. Either way, it’s been awhile.
Traci’s been gardening and crazy-busy writing and editing for Real money. My time’s gone to writing for a fiction-writing class and just general living, my best energy reserves channeled into newly intensified parenting, emotional and academic issues of a child recently diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome.
But we’re still here, and we’re about to get back in the saddle again for the home stretch. Our plan is to don our hats for a couple more church lady visits. We have four items to check off our list before we (I, Beth) can call our Church Rater blog gig complete.
Our List
1) Visit some Catholic sisters at St. Somewhere (and write about it)
2) Whoop it up with a few Charismatic/Pentecostal believers (and post here)
3) Record a podcast with Nick & Josh (if they’ll still have us)
4) Write a contract-grabbing book proposal (Jim? Pointers?)
In the making of this list I wondered if we should include Methodist and Episcopal. Just thinking out loud here.
And yesterday morning as I drove home from the grocery store, that pesky light bulb popped up over my head with an idea that’s too late for this go around. If we could go back, in addition to observing I’d make it a point to ask a woman or two the following specific question.
“What does being a Christian mean to you and to a woman in this church tradition?“
I think the answers would be informative and revelatory, adding a more concrete component to the usual devastatingly entertaining take on our visits. More journalistic, less restaurant review-like. Hm. Maybe that’ll be a future project. (I dream of taking it on the road to explore what it’s like for women in countries all around the world to be followers of Christ. To me, THAT would make for fascinating reading.)
So stay tuned. You haven’t quite read the final word from us yet . . .
What’s that gaggle of suburban moms in aisle 5? Why, it’s an Easter candy buying frenzy.
I take my paper towels and creme hair colourant (the “u” in the middle spells fancy) to the register. Behind me a woman unloads her cart of candy and my eye rests on a milk chocolate cross with — God help me, is that a chocolate Jesus strung up on the thing?
No, it’s flowers.
Phew.
Nothing says “thanks for the salvation” like an execution device rendered in chocolate, but a candy Jesus would be in poor taste.
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