GROWING UP AT 40

In truth, I do feel that this has been a year of incredible, bittersweet growth.  I have "let the genie out of the bottle," as far as my former belief system goes; and I cannot cram it back in no matter how much I might like to.  I miss some of the comforting formalities of the religious services I grew up with, and truly had embraced as my own.  I miss the music, the much-loved hymns, and the warm fuzzy feelings that came with them.  I miss the feeling of belonging to The Club That Is Going To Heaven. 

What I don't miss is the anxiety about thinking outside of that prescribed religious thought box.  When I first started to doubt that my own belief was the Only Way, I snuck into the Metaphysical Room of Ted's Books across from my house.  I felt guilty just being in that room, surrounded by books written by folks who I was somewhat sure were not only bound for hell - but who wanted to take me with them!  Did I dare even take books off the shelf and leaf through them?  Which one looked the least dangerous to my soul?  That first day, I couldn't even bring myself to buy one.  When I returned, I did find one that looked "safe" - or could at least pass for educational (In the Path of the Masters, by D.L. and J.T. Carmody).  I bought it and literally snuck it into my house, terrified that my eager young God-fearing children would ask to see my purchase, requiring an explanation that I could not give!

It is one thing for an adult to undergo a crisis of faith; quite another to have to deal with all of the feelings that come with explaining the same to offspring.  The guilt, fear, and feeling of something lost can sometimes feel overwhelming.  I confess that I still struggle with this occasionally, especially since we have our children attending a religious school.  We feel that it is a safe and loving environment for them; but I am pleased that both of them have confided to me that they simply don't believe that a Loving God could condemn people to hell.  I have told them that I no longer believe in a literal hell; and have even gone so far as telling my oldest child that I no longer view the Bible as completely literal.  I have told her that I now read it as part history, and part metaphor.  My youngest one is not yet ready for that revelation, but we are gently moving in that direction.  I have also told them both that regardless of what anyone else in their life believes, it is up to them to determine what they will believe.  We have discussed the importance of open-mindedness and compassion, especially when they each asked me: "Mom, I know our Way is the Truth - but remind me again how we are so sure?"  I assure them that every devoted adherent to every religion in the entire world is pretty sure their way is the right one; thus the need for respecting all.

I am sure there are times when my poor husband just about chokes when he hears my discussions with our children, and I do try and keep that in mind.  I never want to be the cause of any division between my daughters and their Daddy, who loves them so.  And he has remained very respectful of my journey; asking questions occasionally, and never mocking or even freaking out.  He is also a Soul Pilgrim, just trying to find his way.

Growing up largely requires one to let go and move on.  There can be no going back, only going forward.  I sometimes miss the ignorant bliss of childhood and indoctrination; of not having to think for myself what is right or true, but only adhere to a set of rules.  That is easier, to be sure - but, in my opinion, much less rewarding than finding my own way.

“Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon, have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries, when they wrote these books.” Ralph Waldo Emerson