Having contact with people who will listen without trying to convince me that my experience could not possibly have been as bad as I claim, who then have their own stories that line up in tidy parallels to mine makes me feel like I'm suddenly whole, real, verifiable.
Right now, there are slips of memories flitting through my head, shapes and shadows of people I've known. There must be some key to keeping those people fresh in your life, in your mind, but I have never known it.
But the discouraging reality of Church and church has spread its roots throughout my foundational understanding of the world. The last four years has been my undoing, an unraveling of my belief in people of faith altogether.
My dad never talked much about his origin family. His mother was, in his words, crazy, and we had little contact with his three brothers. What I knew about my father's family fit into a 2X2 inch cube. We know volumes about my mother's family, the big South Side Chicago Irish clan she spoke of... Continue Reading →