I was a little girl who's mother carried bible trax in her purse. Every time we left the house I prayed a little prayer that no one needed their souls saved at the grocery store. It was an embarrassment of the Christ kind. No one was safe, sometimes I wonder if my eyes apologized for my mother's blatant ministry. Do you think that person went to the store going "I need milk, bread, eggs and an overweight housewife to turn my heart to Jesus."
When her white hands slipped into her purse I went off "looking" for something that might be important. On Sunday's I considered stealing all the trax out of their small holders so she couldn't grab any. When other children beamed at their parent's words of God ministries on Sunday morning, I felt embarrassed for them. Funny though some were not ashamed. But I was.
My little heart then was preparing the adult heart. I could have been easily influenced. I could have beamed at the fact my mom shared "The Good News" while we ate our Happy Meals. I could be one of those people who walk blindly into faith, I was kinda raised as such. But I am not and I do not.
I hate talking about religion. It kinda reeks of discomfort. It is a verbal fart. You try to hold it in but sometimes it just slips out. I often let it slip with a friend. I will say "bible-banger," or say something about a "prayer circle." Then wait for a response, if I don't get one I slowly walk away and pretend I didn't say anything. When I get a response I laugh off my little foible and move on.
When I see others today praise the word I get those same sorry eyes when trax and middle-aged housewives dictated my religion.
Don't call me a skeptic. I believe. And that is good enough for me.