For much of my life, I’ve been afraid to speak my mind, because I was (still am in many ways) a people pleaser. I don’t want to step on toes, rock the boat, or burst a bubble, so to speak. And I apologize for everything. Everything. Including apologizing for.. apologizing.
One of the best things about S is he’s arrantly himself. He doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for being who he is: he just lives; life under the weight of other people’s expectations is just too hard, too much, and simply exhausting.
Yet.
The biggest reason I haven’t left the church is because of the discomfort or sadness I’ll cause other people, mostly family. I worry I’ll spend my life tiptoeing around their feelings. I’ll bow to their delicate sensibilities about heaven and hell, and quietly spume in my own disbelief.
Except I can’t.
If it was just me…
If my life was my own…
We don’t want to raise the kids in the church.
I want them to be free - truly free to make up their minds, to follow their hearts about life’s oddities and unknowns. I want them to view the world as beautiful and wondrous and curious, not ugly and wholly sinful and crude.
I want them to love people from all walks of life.
I want them to know religion doesn’t make someone a good person. Good people are found all about us, and they can believe anything or nothing.
I want them to find their voice and use it, the way I never have.
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