you think its going to end, but then it keeps going

This is something I wrote January 12th and then quickly deleted it off this blog. Tonight I started to write a different post about the same events--it made me remember that I had already written this and could just repost it.

When I was very young (about 4 or 5) my mom, brother, sister and i attended a baptist church southwest of Detroit. My hair was very long then, way passed my waist and the church ladies constantly gave me and my mom compliments about it. One of those ladies told my mom a trick about combing out curly hair with conditioner in it while still wet, which I still do today. I can't remember this lady's name, but she was really nice. When we stopped going to that church us kids missed it so much that mom started taking us to the beach every weekend instead.

My mom later revealed to me that she really only went to that church in order to be able to sing in the music program and also to get away from our abusive dad. In fact, the minister of that church eventually encouraged my mom to divorce my dad even though he had initially tried to get her to make it work. One Sunday while my friends Megan and Erin were over, my dad got into a fight with my mom and ended up shoving her through the glass window of the backdoor. The back of her head was cut very badly and she needed stitches. After that we were in a women's shelter for 3 months until the divorce was final. My dad still came around after that, at one point trying to kidnap us kids, another time breaking down the front door of the house and attacking our mom. This was in the 80s before domestic violence and restraining orders were really being taken seriously (not that things are anywhere near perfect now).

Anyway there was no children's teacher one night at this Baptist church and we stayed around for the Sunday night service. I remember the minister screamed. At the end of his message he had some sort of invitation to accept Jesus and I went forward. I was 5. I've thought about this many times and in the past have even been angry at the thought of some minister frightening a 5 yr old kid so bad they thought they were going to hell and so needed to accept Christ. But I'm not really sure that's what happened. I was really young. I can't remember it well. Sometimes I feel like I really was called then. Maybe that was the first and last time I ever willingly, completely innocently and excitedly did what I thought God was telling me to at the time!

A few years later I went to a different Baptist church for a couple of years around age 10-12. That church is a whole other story. We had penny races during vacation bible school and bible drills where we would race to find the verse in order to win a prize. I can remember going to the middle school age kid's group and hearing a story about a family caught in a car accident. The mom and dad made it out of the car alive, but their little boy was stuck inside. They stood outside the car as it engulfed in flames and begged the boy to accept Christ. He didn't do it. The teacher then asked us whether or not we thought the boy would go to heaven. Unfortunately he would not, we were informed. He went to hell forever because he didn't "accept Jesus as his Savior". I also remember being told to imagine the idea of "forever". I can even almost remember the way they explained it: "You think its going to end, but then it keeps going... and then you think the end is coming, but then it keeps going"

Another time at that second (same) Baptist church I remember being in a room with lots of other kids during what must have been vacation bible school. The leader gave a talk about being called by God. Then he had us bow our heads and close our eyes to pray.

He said that whoever felt like God was calling should raise their hand. I didn't feel anything. I didn't raise my hand.

Instead I peeked and saw at least five people with their hands up.

I wished that I had felt something.