When I arrived home and unpacked from a Memorial Day weekend visit with my parents, I found a “Daily Bread” tucked into a recipe book my mom had given me. Obviously, I’m not one to carry around Christian prayer books, so this was a foreign object in my luggage. I’ve been thinking about this for the last two days, trying to figure out if it ended up there accidentally or if it was planted there by one of my parents (probably my mom)? I find it unlikely that this little booklet accidentally made its way into a recipe book I thoroughly thumbed through before tucking into my suitcase. Though I generally tend to shy away from conspiracy theories, I think the booklet was planted.
My husband asked if it really matters. I’ve been thinking about that for the last few days and my feeling is that it does. It matters to me that one of my parents still does not accept my atheism despite so many half-hearted nods to the contrary. It matters that one or both of my parents think that my lack of belief in god is an issue of lack of education or information and that I’ve arrived here through ignorance rather than careful investigation. It matters that someone in my family wants to change my mind about god, even though I have never tried to change theirs. And it matters to me that they know me so little that they think a piece of religious propoganda will send me running back to Jesus.
Perhaps I’m not being fair. Christianity is a skillfully-designed faith that implores its followers to convert their loved ones so they may be saved and live eternally. My parents want only the best for me and my family, and I can imagine that the idea that I will be damned to hell for eternity is terrifying and heartbreaking for them. My mother has told me that she views the most important role in parenting to be religious guidance (in Christianity, of course).
I don’t know how to make my atheism an easier pill for them to swallow. I thought we had been making some progress, particularly given the conversation with my mother that I recapped in a recent post. Maybe it’s two steps forward, one step back. Or perhaps I am unreasonable to expect that my parents would accept this as who I am.
Soren might grow up to be a preist or a monk or something else that is completely contrary to his parents’ philosophical position. I hope I’ll be able to accept him for who he is, even if I don’t completely agree with him. I can’t say that I would be happy if he came home to tell his father and me that he’s converting to a religion. But I want to believe that I wouldn’t sneak atheist literature into his suitcase, thinking he’d simply lost his way and that a little light reading would set him straight.
