That was the question I asked myself when I opened my eyes.
Looking around I realized that I was in church. Sitting beside me was my wife and my son next to her. We never choose to sit in the front row on other Sundays so it confused me why we are sitting here this week. Groggy and tired, I felt like throwing up. Last night my wife and I attended a small BBQ at our friends’ house. The hot tub and the beer erased the memory of the latter part of the night. The booze must have erased part of my memory this morning as I did not remember driving to church. We must have had one hell of a night. An evening with booze mixed with a hot tub always equaled good times.
The pastor was preaching and the crowd sat quiet. My mind was still foggy after opening my eyes and I wasn’t sure how long I was sleeping for. Nobody seemed to notice me jolting awake. My wife had tears in her eyes, as did my son. The pastor’s voice seemed muffled and I could not make out what he was saying. My head throbbed as I felt a major migraine coming on.
Brushing back her blond curls, I leaned toward my wife and asked if she had any Aspirin, with the quietest whisper I could manage. I had some sort of allergic reaction to Tylenol the first time I took it and was confined to the hospital two weeks afterward. We used Aspirin ever since.
My wife looked down to her knees and almost in slow motion answered by shaking her head. I got the feeling she did not want to be disturbed. In the few months that we have been attending the church, my wife has become a believer.
I never was a religious man but I did believe that there was a god. I did not however care much for organized religion. Every religion I’ve investigated seemed to have a set of beliefs that didn’t sit right with me. My wife felt the same way, especially after having a minor in Religious Studies in University. We discussed it openly before our son was born. We chose not to discuss the topic with him, as we wanted him to decide for himself if he wanted to follow any sort of religious beliefs. Not that we didn’t teach him right from wrong – no sir – he surely got disciplined for doing something he shouldn’t have. We felt that religious teachings of only one faith should not be dictated to an individual, but one should be able to be open to all religions and to choose a religion with a faith that they were comfortable in following.
A few years ago, my oldest son started hanging around the wrong kids in school and eventually got himself in trouble with the law. He got caught for stealing from a department store and was prosecuted on the charge. This was his first and only offense (that we know of) and was sentenced lightly. Along with community service, his sentence also consisted of volunteering with community activities and to prove that he is becoming a contributing member of society. He volunteered at the community center in our neighborhood and he befriended a teen his age named Justin. He and Justin started hanging out and Justin eventually introduced him to Christianity.
He attended church for over a month and I started seeing improvements in his demeanor. His grades were improving in school and it seemed he had a clearer understanding in life. We were pleased he approached us and asked us to attend church with him. We agreed and have been going to church on a consistent basis for a number of months now. I still do not believe in organized religion, but if it keeps my son from falling into a downwards spiral in life, then I will make the effort.
A loud sob came from behind me followed by weeping. Of course in church you didn’t turn your head to investigate whom it was coming from. With my ears clogged and my aching head, I would not have made the effort to look even if I wanted to. I still could not make out what the pastor was mumbling but it appeared he was asking the crowd to rise. I stood up with the rest of the crowd and the first two rows emptied out into the middle isle.
Trying to clear the cobwebs from my aching head I figured it must be the week for communion.
“Crackers and grape juice”, I whispered to my son with a concealed wink.
My son always brushed off those witty remarks of mine and always told me ‘open your mind, dad!’ This time he burst out crying. I felt like shrinking back into my seat feeling ashamed for making that wise crack. “I’m sorry, buddy”, I apologized.
My wife turned and looked directly at me. The red puffiness surrounding her eyes made my heart sink. I put my arm around her to console her. She violently shivered and brushed my arm away. Inside my heart ripped apart.
My wife wept loudly as she slowly walked forward with my son following her. They approached the pastor with tears streaming down their face and I glided in, with the guilty feeling of having a hangover. The pastor advised us to close our eyes as he said a prayer.
We opened our eyes again I realized that I was staring down into a coffin. Each thump of my head sent shooting pains though my body and I suddenly realized that we were attending a funeral. Bright white flashes danced in front of my eyes and I could only see faded colors of the black suit that enveloped the body. Squinting, I was able to make out faint details and recognized the face. It was me.
Then blackness.
No comments:
Post a Comment