#my father
Me in the last week:
- Managing to have somehow good grades a balancing with my personal life.
- Going to a part-time job.
- Working on a fic and Headcanon set. (@missdictatorme that will destroy ya, girl)
- LearningHe’s a pirateandHedwig’s theme on flute.
- Reading through the second Harry Potter book.
- Starting to play Far Cry: New Dawn.
- Seriously, I’m in it for ma boi Joseph.
- He is the father, let’s be honest. And I’m commiting a crime: lust.
- So that leads to me playing We will rise again on ukulele like a hundred times a day.
My mom: are you ok girl?
Me:
Matthew 26:42 (NKJV) -
Again, a second time, He went away and prayed, saying, “O My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done.”
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One of the best days of my life was the day I told my dad I was atheist.
For background - I’ve always had very open, loving, and socially liberal parents, but I was raised under a conservative, Baptist banner. We attended church every Sunday. In 1997, my father moved all of us to South Dakota because he felt that God had called him to attend seminary. I went to Bible camp every summer from the ages of 10 through 17. When I was 15, a friend asked me to baptize her; and I did. On my first day of 1st Grade, I sat with my dad on the floor of my living room - both of us kneeling, our hands folded in prayer across the cushions of the loveseat - and accepted Jesus into my heart. This is to say, my unraveling from Christianity didn’t happen easily or without careful and educated consideration. It was a slow awakening - it took years of travel, attending other religious services, making friends outside my church group and listening to their thoughts, views, and stories, then allowing those views to challenge my own.
I asked a lot of questions, and at some point, I could no longer justify the answers I was getting.
One day after a particularly long debate with a friend about heaven, I thought, “Maybe this is it, and we have to be good, nice people here because this is our only shot.” And it was the first time, in a long time, that I felt some semblance of comfort. It all suddenly made sense, and I knew right then that I was atheist.
But it would be about 9 years before I ever said those words out loud.
Which brings me back to my best day.
I had stopped to fill up my car at a gas station. I only wanted to put $20 in the tank because it was all I had in the bank until Friday - so, I was obsessively staring at the pump. As I watched the gauge tick upward, a woman walked up to me and asked if she could talk with me about her religion. Usually I’m very open to discussing faith, but at this particular moment, I wasn’t really paying attention to her, I was watching the meter. Without thinking, I quickly rattled off, “No thank you, I’m atheist.” It was the first time I’d ever said it outside of my head. Anywhere. To anyone. I was so stunned, I forgot what I was doing until I heard the audible “pop” of the pump’s automatic shut-off. I’d filled up with $26.80 worth of gas. Fuck.
Even though I was probably overdrawn, I felt indescribably light. I’d said something true and honest, and the world around me just continued and no one died and that woman at the gas pump didn’t scream at me or try to claw my eyes out, she simply smiled and walked away. Everything was justfine.
I had to capitalize on this feeling. So, I called my dad.
When he answered, the first thing I blurted into the phone was, “Daddy, I’m an atheist.” There was a silence, and then, “Yeah, I kinda figured.”
“You KNEW?”
“Sure.”
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Really? Really? You accept that?”
Then my dad said something that I wish every single human could hear from the person they love the most: “No. I don’t accept that. Acceptance is my most basic requirement as a parent. It’s the easiest thing I could do as your dad. It requires nothing more from me than….adequacy. Acceptance is tolerating something, even when you don’t like it. You’re atheist? Okay. Whatever. You’re a wonderful person. You’re a wonderful daughter. I love you, and every day you give me a reason to love you more. I’m so proud of you. Of your bravery and your honesty. Accept you? No. I don’t accept you - I ADORE you.“
Hearing that from my dad, even when deep down I probably knew that would be his answer, was such a satisfying relief.
That feeling is something I don’t want to take for granted.
What I’m trying to say is, if in this current social and political climate, you feel like there’s something about you that is different or weird or not “normal” and you think if you say it out loud the world is going to end, please know…
I don’t accept you - I ADORE you.
henry reciting the black parade and gretchen falling for it, thinking he’s telling an actual story, and then he burst out in song will never not be funny omg
