Across the Line

I went to my parents place this weekend.  Loaded all four kids into my tiny Honda so that we could attempt a few relaxing hours of family and outdoor time.  It was cold and rainy and brilliant.  Farmer's Market early on the grey Saturday, playdate that ended with kids in a creek all muddy and mucky (a hallmark of childhood fun) and a nice, leisurely meal with friends as they loved on me, loved on my kids.  It was all wonderful until the topic of church on Sunday morning came up.  

Part of me still feels obliged, mandated, compelled, ingrained to go to church by 10am on a Sunday.  In the same way that you don't think about whether or not you need to urinate upon rousing in the morning, you simply go to the bathroom, first thing; I feel a deeply set-in habited part of me that formatively needs to be at a church at that designated day and time.  Every Sunday seems to be a tug of war between feeling like I must go to appease some undisclosed judicial system, and the other part wants to not attend until I sort some things out.

Generally, I don't follow American politics.  I read up on issues, I vote, I complete my civic duties, but I don't go to rallies, I don't donate money.  Fundamentally, I think the system is flawed and all that jazz we Millennials are known to haphazardly gripe about.  But this particular presidential cycle, with all the crazy shenanigans and myriad of candidates, including the most controversial one, Donal Trump, has me perking up my ears.  Not so much to the dialogue from the standard news-types, but more to the NPR or independent types.  One such gal interviewed here a conservative radio host out of South Carolina, Tony.  This man is deep in his religious beliefs and those beliefs are deeply connected to the stances of the Republican Party.  In more than one interview, he talked about how if Trump was the voice of the Republican Party, than he had to separate.  To him, he could get behind people who were slightly less conservative, slightly more pro-whatever, but he could not get behind Trump and what he stands for.  Which leaves Tony, a conservative political radio host, literally, a man without a party.  In the interview, it's clear Tony feels betrayed, angered, with a feeling of, "when did 'we' (Republicans) turn into 'that' (people who agree with the viewpoints of Trump) and how did I miss the signs?"

I feel for Tony.  The parallel between a man who foundationally feels there is a moral high ground in politics and the only place to stand is on it, and myself, a girl who felt foundationally there was a spiritual high ground and the only place to stand was on it... to me at least, it's the same story.  Different details, but the same story no less.

Blindsided.  

Baffled.  

Unable to understand because understanding would look a particular way according to my deeply held convictions and the current reality is not inline.  

You going to Sunday School or just church?

Um, neither.

I choose the option not given, I choose not to go.  I choose to stand back, lick my wounds, let them heal, and figure out what the hell happened and how I missed it.  Tony will do the same.  He'll wonder which debate, which bigoted rant, which racial/ethnic/religious shooting-off-of-the-mouth everyone else missed by Trump that he, Tony, clearly saw.  Meanwhile, I'll wonder which meeting, which encounter, which reprimand I clearly saw as out-of-line that apparently was clear only to me.

There is a line in the sand, a breaking even point.  Everything between where you are and that line is acceptable.  Sure John McCain wasn't as conservative as Tony hoped, but he was generally in the same vicinity as Tony.  Sure I didn't agree with every decision the evangelical organization made but they were generally making sense, in my same logical vicinity.  But once that small line is crossed, there is no way to go back.  What's worse, the bewilderment and astonishment are often so great, you have no words to describe how the twelve steps leading up to that line were more or less acceptable, but that one tiny step over, that one wasn't.  The straw that broke the camel's back-- what does that even mean?!?

But for those of us who have been there, either politically, ethically, morally, religiously, or sexually, once that line is crossed, the planet shifts on it's axes and never goes back.

The question was well meaning.  The intentions were more or less, "This used to be a thing I did with you and I miss having you there," but the fact that the question is being asked at all says the asker still doesn't get it.  There will never be a "getting over" this.  You will never "get over" the death of a child, witnessing a horrible crime, having your foundation cracked open beneath you.  These things you don't "get over" you only can get through... and anyone who asks if you've gotten over it, they don't get it.  They can't.  It's beyond them, at least, until they cross their own lines.