Okay, not so much, really

Of course I wasn't BORN Baptist. But here, in the buckle of the Bible belt that I am blessed to call home, people nod and chuckle knowingly when you say that. I really don't hear the same allusions made to being "born Methodist" or "born Catholic." Hmm. Wonder why. I guess being "born Baptist" explains a lot. Haha.

What I mean by that -- and what most of us mean by that -- is that my family, on both sides, was Baptist as far back as anyone can reckon. My earliest memories of my Christian heritage begin with my grandparents on both sides. My mother's father was a Baptist preacher. His wife, who is but a single angel's breath short of sainthood in my eyes, was the ultimate picture of a preacher's wife. She grew flowers and made the arrangements for the tiny little churches. She cooked meals and visited the sick. She taught Sunday school, VBS, Sunbeams. What sweet, sweet memories for me. I still have some of the little flannel board kits she used in those classes, and some hand-made activities she created back in the day before the slickly packaged kits churches use today. Precious.

My father's parents weren't involved in that way but were of the "whenever the doors were opened" ilk. They were involved more in fundraising, donating, etc. In their small church were a stained glass window and a pew both bearing a brass plate engraved with our family name to represent donations given for the building of the church. Whenever I went to church with them, I couldn't understand why we didn't sit in OUR bench. How can you have a bench with your name on it and NOT SIT THERE???? Well, my grandmother had HER PLACE in church. Everyone had THEIR PLACES in church. (Now I know what that's like. We were not in Sunday service most of this past summer, and when we went back in the fall we parked ourselves back in OUR PLACE. If anyone else had gotten comfortable there over the summer, they have since relocated with nary a sideways glance. And hubby and I are weird for Baptists -- out of some 50-60 rows of pews three wide, we sit on the right hand side, fourth pew from the FRONT, middle of the pew, me on the left and hubby on the right. Nerdy Baptists, I guess -- like we always like to sit up front in classes.)

Well, as you can see, both sets of grandparents were greatly involved in church and my parents, as children, were necessarily involved as well. My mother was forced to play the piano in church, which she hated. I think that when my parents both got to be teens (they hadn't met at this point) they complained enough to be relieved of mandatory church attendance. And that they liked. Church activities had become a chore and a drudgery for them.

Preview to the next installment: The sixties were not kind to families. The sixties were not kind to faith. The sixties, I believe, were pretty much single-handedly responsible for much of the family breakdown and societal mayhem with which we wrestle today. Women's lib? Pffft. No friend of mine, let me tell you. Also, let me tell you how NOT to raise a child: "Oh, we were so unhappy with organized religion; let's just let her find her own way." Pardon my French but "finding my own day" literally damn near got me killed, certainly spiritually if not practically physically. I am NOT passing that legacy to my child.

Proverbs 22:6 -- Train up a child in the way he should go, Even when he is old he will not depart from it.