Second Confession

I try to love everyone; I mean, it takes all kinds to make up the social environment.  Pirates, bloggers, corporations, clergy - each have their function and part to play in sustaining the dynamic tension that is "life".

That being said, sometimes, I really can't stand "church people."

You know the type: the ones who are just a little too enthusiastic in the morning, the ones who are just a little too Heaven minded to be earthly good, the ones who attempt to find out more about you than you're willing to offer.   Of course, this is a generic personality type, or "tribe" as I think of them (probably to be explored in another confession) , not a complete slam on sheep, God bless 'em. 

Allow me to illustrate.

A couple weeks ago, my nephew, Aaron, was baptized.  It was a momentous occasion, and as such, we drove up to Marion to take part.  Marion is in God's country, so it took some driving on my part, aided and abetted by a travel mug of coffee, to get there.  Eventually, we arrive at the edifice where that body of believers meets.  I'm not a morning person, as a general rule, and I'm a bit punch drunk from driving a long distance on not much consciousness.  Stage now set, let's meet THE PEOPLE.

The church in Marion attended by Jeff (my brother-in-law, fine upstanding fellow, nice goatee like mine, but without the natty white streak) is populated with Midwesterners.  Salt o' the earth, not a thing wrong with that.  They advertise free coffee and donuts on their website; when I got there, there was a pot of coffee available in back.  My morning-ness being what it was, that sounded really good; I proceded back to get a cuppa to restore a bit of sanity to my surreal world.

Just a note on that: the more awake I am, the more surreal the world becomes.  If you're ever with me and I fall asleep, BE GRATEFUL: that means nothing weird is gonna happen.  You're with me at about five, sixish at night - watch out!

I must have been more awake than I realized, because before I could get to the coffee pot, I was swarmed by CHURCH LADIES.  They welcomed me, and presumed that I MUST be Jeff's brother.  General rule of thumb when approaching a wild Ryan:  Never Presume Anything.  Of course I don't lie, I just tell them i'm not Jeff's brother.  Not put off in the slightest, they ask who I am.  Rule number two of approaching Ryan in the wild: Don't Ask THAT Question, because quite frankly, I'm still working on it myself.  So I remark that I'm just a guy, and before I can get another statement out, they tell me that they noticed I was with my girlfriend.

Note on that:  I've not had a girlfriend for a good twelve years.  Even when my now-wife, Joy, and I were dating, I knew that we were supposed to end up together.  Guys have that kind of sensing - when she's The One.  I knew from the moment I offered her a Pez, and she mentioned that she same dispenser.

Also, I was wearing my wedding band.  Durrrrrrrrrrrr.

About this time, my wife comes up and tries to pry me away from the grip of the Church Ladies.  She did so, at the cost of herself; as I ran away from them as fast as is socially acceptable, they were scrunching the tattoo on her forearm, just so see what it would look like when she was old and wrinkly like they.

Having said all that, this subset of people is also available for viewing pretty much anywhere.  The overly friendly sales clerk who goes way above and beyond in his unwavering loyalty to THE BRAND or THE STORE.  The chatty person in the store who tells you all about their cats.  The guy that walks up and gives you a telephone number to reach the actor who played Eb on Green Acres (another blog post, maybe).  Maybe they're of the tribe of Dan, while I'm of the people of Issachar, I don't know.  Working through this, I find that the only way I can best love them is from afar.  Preferably the moon.  I'll work with them, and I recognize that, without them, the church is incomplete.  Maybe it's because they aren't a completely redeemed tribe, and in their immaturity they lack self-control, I dunno. 

All I know is, when passing through Marion's church system, mind your tattoo.