I spend eighteen hours in my home town about twice a year. It's a six hour drive and I moved away nearly a decade ago. I'm never thrilled to be there. I got kind of a weird start in life - my parents kicked me out one hot day in June (it was a face-melter) just before my senior year of high school without so much as a packed lunch. After that, I must have worked a dozen odd jobs, landed a sweet scholarship, made some great connections and somehow wound up in Chicago with Rich Lady Problems. My life is a blessing and an unlikely one.
There is a novel of details I could insert here and one day I might, but for now, let's skip all that get to the billboard I saw yesterday when I hit the highway leaving Evansville. (I'm always frantic to get out, like everything I have in Chicago could disappear of I don't claw my way back soon enough). It was a picture of a face I would recognize any where and three words: I am Second.
Safely tucked back in my home in the city after the trek, I cuddled up to a glass of wine late last night and did the Google. Then I saw that familiar face in motion telling his story in a video, one about losing his wife to cancer. I know these people - parents of an old friend of mine - and I can picture the home in which he lived this horror. We used to eat pizza there and do crafts at the kitchen table.
It turns out I am Second
is an inclusive Christian movement. Not one that hates gays or uses the thought police to judge people's every move. I hate that crap. I'm a liberal, if you haven't noticed, and while decisions I would make for myself are different than those I tolerate, it doesn't make me a goody goody.
I struggle every day (or at least every third or fourth day) with resentment. Sometimes anger. I thought I was over my past and thankful for what I do have, not stuck on what I didn't or don't. Wrong. One little run down Highway 41 and the stink of my struggles washes over me like tire spray on a dirty truck route. What the hell were my parents thinking? How could someone not know where her child sleeps at night?
I'm curious about this "I am Second" thing because it seems to welcome people like me right in. Imperfect people with stories. But wouldn't that make me the world's biggest hypocrite to embrace a born again Christian movement? I'm pro-choice, anti-gun, love the homos. Perhaps, though, the real God loves us all?
I'll never change my politics but I might soften my opinion of born again Christianity. I really hate that term. Let's think of something new. How about, "Reconsidering Agnostics Who Are Feeling Inspired By Christianity"?
There we go.
Business in Indiana: Meeting great-grandmamaw