Unlike the people whose stories I've read so far, I have never believed
in God, or if I did, I don't remember it. My savior was my dad, who told
me many things about religion and why it was irrational. I am a
third-generation atheist, my grandparents having given up religion in
their teens or twenties. My mom, however, is religious and my dad likes
to say that he made me an agnostic, but my mom made me an atheist. She's
a fundamentalist xian, which does not make my summer visits too pleasant
(my parents are divorced, but luckily my dad has custody).
When I was little, I was presented with two choices: mom's religion or
dad's lack thereof. I thought religion was kind of screwy and hearing
people speak in tounges at the church I had to go to really freaked me
out. My dad's point of view made sense and my mom's point of view scared
me, so until I grew out of the stage where I could be easily
intimidated, I avoided making a descision. I tried to pretend to my mom
that I was religious, even to the point of making up religious dreams,
blaming the devil for a pulled muscle in my leg, and (gasp) even going
up to the front of my sunday school class and asking Jesus into my
heart. I remember being kind of confused the whole time, wondering if
I
was doing this right and hoping I didn't get caught. Mom made me pray
sometimes before sleep, and on a couple of these occasions I asked god
whether he was there or not. I told him to show himself in a dream or
do
something impressive to prove he was there. I felt kind of silly talking
to the air, but I felt it was worth a shot, so I directed my thoughts
upward and waited. Nothing happened.
I don't remember how old I was (maybe around 8) when I told Mom I didn't
want to go to church anymore, but I do remember her reaction, and it
scared me almost as much as church did. I was quieter about my beliefs
after that. I no longer mentioned religion, and one day I stopped
praying at the dinner table. I don't know if she noticed it that day or
later, because she never mentioned it, but I have never since folded my
hands and bowed my head to offer words to a nonexistant entity. The next
time I told her I didn't like church, I was several years older and many
times wiser. This time I broke the news to her *after* one of our
weekend visits instead of *before*. This way, Dad could stay with me the
whole time, so she couldn't freak out too much. I also had better
reasons. I wanted to spend more time with her on weekends, and since she
sang in the choir, she had to get up early on Sundays and sometimes go
to practice on Saturday nights. Church made us both tired all Sunday,
so
that day was pretty much shot. We kept going to church for a while
anyway, but she eventually quit singing. I also quit going to sunday
school and babysat some of the toddlers instead (but since the room I
was in was only separated from the kid's church by a thin door, I still
had to listen to the music).
A few years ago, we quit going entrely. Mom said the church was getting
too big and she didn't know anyone anymore, confirming my belief that
religion is mainly used as an excuse for social events. Her fellow sheep
still call her every once in a while to ask if she's coming back. I find
this very funny. Things between us are getting better, and she's finally
accepted the fact that I am an atheist. Getting her to believe that I've
always been one should take a little longer, but I think it'll happen.
We talk about philosophy a lot, but I try not to sound preachy. I just
tell her what I think and why and hope she'll "see the light".
I don't
really dare to dream anymore that she might one day doubt her religion,
but I'll keep trying anyway; what the hell, everyone needs a hobby.
- Melissa
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