I Look In The Mirror And All I See

Is sad lonely eyes, staring right back at me.

Alright.  So A few weeks back I was thrilled to the moon over a new friend I had found in the mother of my kid’s friend.  I guess I didn’t know she assumed I was Christian.  And the irony in this compared to what I had originally said about her is not lost. (The part at the very bottom slays me, now, in hindsight.)

The thing is, I only have guesses.  She hasn’t actually told me to my face that she has a new found problem with my family.  And she certainly hasn’t said what it was.  But the only change that occurred between her being thrilled with my family and now there being a coldness that could freeze fire is her realization that hey, we don’t worship.

There wasn’t a point where I said “Oh, by-the-way.”  I think she just pieced a few things together and jumped to, admittedly correct, conclusions.

When my husband and I dropped T off at their house for a zoo trip, Pat was wearing a Gothic style head cover.  By no means Satanic or otherwise inappropriate, but you know how Gothic style can go.  I guess I should have seen her reaction to our Pink Floyd poster coming.  I’ve never given it a second thought.  And we only ever get compliments.  But then, most of our friends aren’t exactly conservative.  She didn’t say anything, but since my husband who can read people like a coloring book was the one to catch her facial reaction, she didn’t have to.

In retrospect, I can’t honestly blame her. They are technically naked. With their back to their camera not revealing anything hard core, and it’s tasteful and artistic as hell. But they are naked, and either you’re bothered by it or you’re not.

Later that evening when confirming the sleepover scheduled for the weekend to come, I got word that little man was nervous about spending the night in a strange house.  Not yet realizing that something was majorly wrong, I went into understanding momma mode and told her that was way fine, he’d could come hang out and if spending the night wouldn’t work, that would be fine.  If he wanted to try to spend the night but couldn’t make it, I’d get him home myself no matter the time.

They showed up.  He was left.  He thought it was insane I’d even suggest to call his mom at bedtime, he was having fun and wasn’t even a little hesitant about crashing in a strange house.  I texted her to update her on things being well, I got arctic chill.

We haven’t heard boo from them in the 2 weeks since he was picked up that morning.

Pat and I had a long talk where the reader of people detailed what he’d noticed, I confessed the signs I had seen, and I started processing being so very wrong about my hoped for new friendship.

I started out so very mad.  Which is actually why this post took 2 weeks.  The nerve! I mean right?  Way to judge me on my morals and actions.  Let’s just write me off because I don’t worship your God.  Your God, who has made it clear it’s his job to judge me, and not yours.  I’m pretty sure should the pearly gates be real, I’ll receive enough judgment there, I don’t need it at the door to my own damn house.  And seriously?  I may not worship like you do, but I am spiritual, moral, and good.  I’m not perfect.  But I’m good.

Oh that rant would have continued on for paragraphs into pages.  Twitter even got some of it.

But now I’m resigned to acceptance.  If I am written off so easily because of my religion, or lack-there-of, then I’m not the one losing anything here.

Then less than a week later I found my people.

And I’ll tell that story later.  But hint?  It involves me climbing that wall, though it doesn’t start there.


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