bouldersandbrews: (Agrias - Quiet Determination)
So far I've seen two babies that are around how old the Raisin would be. The pain by now has faded enough to where I just feel a little wistfulness. Does this make me a horrible person? Or does this just mean that I'm healing? I'd like to think the latter... so that's what I'm going with. This is clearly something that's going to stick with me for the rest of my life, though. I had a dream last night that I had another miscarriage. Only, it was weird, because it wasn't quite a miscarriage, but more like a stillbirth... or something. All I know was that there was a dead baby involved and that it was mine. Is this my subconscious informing me that I'm an evil freak for not mourning the Raisin day in, day out? I don't really think that... not really. I think more likely, the idea of babies was stuck in my head since I saw a cute little one yesterday, and since my main experience with babies was the miscarriage, that was the avenue my mind took to process that. Or something. I don't know how my brain works. Why do you think I'm so messed up?

When we were attending with the Lake Elsinore group, one of our friends there informed Dave that he was "the last of the old guard". I think this was in the context of Dave's stubborn refusal to wear jeans to church. However, I think it applies in other ways, and not just to Dave, either.

I grew up in a church that was stately, elegant, and formal. Everything was nice and organized, but not in some weird OCD type way. I liked the elegance, the class. Now, this no longer exists, and it vexes me to no end. Before, when hymns were sung, they were sung. Now, there are people waving their hands, clapping along, the songleader is shouting out. Before, when there was special music, it was performed, there was a respectful silence, fa la la you're done. Now, there's more clapping, hand raising, shouting, and now if you don't clap at the end you're a freak. Oh, that I were exaggerating. Somehow, somewhere along the line, the theoretical churches of God turned Protestant/Pentecostal, and no one told me.

Oh how I could rant. People are wearing jeans to church now. Wearing Befany-type makeup. There's no respect. There's no class. There's no elegance. Church is now a social club, not a religious gathering. I have to fight the temptation to do something like yell out "HALLELUJAH" during the sermon, or start rolling in the aisles. It seems like it'd fit in with the new, relevant-to-the-new-generation church of God. And, of course, it would have the added benefit of amusing me. Oh, don't look at me like that, we all know I wouldn't... but it's kind of funny to think about. At least it helps me get through services without exploding...


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Boulders And Brews

January 2013

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