The Day I Realized I Didn't Like Church Folk!

Hey, blog-a-boo's!

I gotta get accustomed to this blog thing! Lol! I totally forgot to write something yesterday. Then again, am I supposed to write something everyday?? Oh, well...

So...I figured today I would talk a little about my childhood and growing up as a preacher's kid. The reason this is so important to note, is because you would think after seeing what my parents went through in church--and with church folk--the last thing I would do is marry a preacher!!! But, Lord have mercy. That's exactly what I did.

Growing up, it was fairly easy being a preachers kid. Although nobody knew my name, and only referred to me as being "Reverend Winter's daughter", my younger years went pretty smooth. It wasn't until I was around twelve years old that I begin to see the dark side of church and ministry. As a matter of fact, the first time I ever saw my dad cry was after a board meeting at church with a group of Deacons. So, from that day on, I despised Deacons. I thought they were all sent from hell--by the devil himself--to torture my daddy! You have to know that my dad was my hero, and it's a tough and hurting thing to watch your hero be brought to tears. O. Em. Gee. I wanted to march my twelve-year old little self right up to those Deacons, and kick them where my momma told me to kick any man who ever tried to hurt me. (Don't stone me, I was 12 y'all--lol!) And, if I had had the nerve to do it, I would have done it and would have taken the butt whooping I was sure to get later, with pride. (Told y'all I have to keep it real)

So, anyway, that was about the time when I started viewing ministry more as a burden than a blessing. I would watch people shout on Sunday mornings,and act like heathens at choir rehearsal. They would argue and bicker over who was going to lead this song, and which choir member they were NOT going to sit by. Just petty. But, seeing that even until this very day, I've never gotten an opportunity to choose my church, I had to observe such things--often in silence.

One Sunday morning, I decided to sit next to my mother. I was probably around fourteen years old at the time, which meant that it was a rare Sunday morning to find me sitting next to her. When I was growing up, it was a big deal when you were finally released to sit with your friends during church. But, on this particular day I decided to be a kid again. Service was underway, and before long an usher came strolling up to my mother, passing her a note. I turned away, but no sooner than I could refocus my attention on what my father was saying as he began his sermon; my mom was nudging me in my arm. She had tears in her eyes. Immediately, I thought maybe someone had died. I took the note from her shaking hands, and what I saw caused rage to swell up in me like an ocean's tide. I swung around to try and find the usher who had brought the note. I wanted to know where it had originated from. Not able to hold in her tears any longer, my mom rushed out the side door that led to my father's office. I was dead on her heels, because I wanted her to know that she should never let a hater see you cry.

Once in the office, she released her hurt and anger. I stood speechless not knowing what to do, as my mother cried. I wanted to punch the walls. I wanted to go grab the microphone from my father and challenge the note writer to a one-on-one outside. I wanted to tell my dad that he had to quit this church. First, I'd seen my father crying because of Deacons. Now, my mom was crying because of some insensitive woman who had written her a note that said, "I f*cked your husband last night." Some people said she should have ignored it. But, when you're already under pressure to present yourself as Superwoman, it doesn't take much for you to crack. And, that one note had her wondering so many things. Who sent it? What did she look like? Was it true? If it was true, did anyone else know? Yes, she wanted to trust her husband--she did trust him. Yes, she knew he had been at home with her the night before. But, had he been there the entire night? When you're caught off guard like that, the thoughts go from one extreme to another.

It was that day that I realized that I didn't like church folk. I had no problems with real Christians. But, church folk I couldn't stand.

Whew! I better stop right here for the night. Lol! I'll pick up tomorrow.

Until then, keep it 100!




The One & Only,

D. Wash