I frequently refer to myself as a BEC (bitter ex-Christian), but I’m finding that this definition of myself is starting to change. I’ve now put enough time and space between my current faith and my former one to gain some perspective, and I’ve found myself assessing the lessons I learned over the decades I spent practicing the various forms of Christianity. I’ve learned lessons, some good and some bad, and I thought I’d share some of them here. I’m starting chronologically from my earliest participation until my last, and the approximate dates of where I was involved is included for context. I’ve also included links to places and people because, well, it was fun to walk down memory lane as I wrote this.Continue reading “Making peace with my former faith”
This past Saturday, the Women’s Fellowship of our church held its annual Spring Tea. The hosts this year were yours truly and my pal, Brenda, who came down with food poisoning the morning of the event and couldn’t join us, so I was on my own. The great thing, though, is that I wasn’t really on my own because I had so many wonderful women to help me!
Now that Easter has passed (and the swelling has gone down in my fingers enough to allow me to type) and I’ve spent time reflecting back on previous Easter seasons, I realize that most of the impactful memories of mine surrounding this holiday are from my childhood. Overflowing Easter baskets from a very generous Easter Bunny who must have had Santa on speed dial since he brought me stuff I had been wanting. Ham dinners at my grandparents’ house, followed by Easter egg hunts and the hope that I’d find an egg or two with a dollar inside instead of candy. (Even at six years old, I’d choose cash over sugar.) Continue reading “The journey continues – Easter 2015”
I’ve been away from my blog for a few weeks, and I’d love to pretend my extended absence was due to some wild adventure. But alas, I wasn’t scaling the glaciers of Mt. Rainier or kayaking up Puget Sound to commune with the whales. My new normal – pain, fatigue, and an honest loss of words – have kept me away.
Early Sunday mornings, well before the sun peeks over the Cascades range, I love to climb from beneath the warmth of my quilts, close the cracked window letting in all that chilly Pacific Northwest air, and head downstairs. Continue reading “Farmgirls, church ladies, and Sunday mornings”
Had I not turned off my alarm at 6:30a and then accidentally slept until 9:08a, this would have been the most perfect of Sundays. Despite my proclivity of alarm avoidance (third time this long holiday weekend), I managed to have the kind of Sunday that truly prepares me to deal with commuting and general ridiculousness on Monday. Continue reading “Some Sundays are nearly perfect”