![]() ![]() It was the backdrop to all of the other mixed up stuff that was going on with my two-part family and my adolescent body. It was a strange combination of Jesus loves you unconditionally and if you do not accept him as your personal savior you will burn in hell. Jesus became the personal savior of many a kid after those showings. ![]() And let me tell you, the altars were busy on those nights. The graphic, disturbing images were justified because they would hopefully lead to conversions. Ironically, at the time they showed those films during the evening services, I wasn’t allowed to go to movies because they were “against our religion.” Somehow though, the church officials thought it was okay to show A Thief in the Night to children. To understand my terror please see the attached YouTube video.) Other scenes involved torture and executioners. (Not everyone is as fortunate as I am to have an actual video of the scene that traumatized me for years to come. One scene depicted a child being sent away to a guillotine. I’m talking crying and screaming upon coming home to an empty house kind of fear. I’m talking nightmare, wet the bed kind of fear. Without taking the time to tell you the entire plot line, (I’d need to refresh my own memory,) I can say in all honesty that nothing in my life has scared me as much as that movie. She realized early on that although she was a good person she’d made a terrible mistake by not taking Jesus Christ as her personal savior. It was the story of a woman who had been left behind after the rapture. One of the things I do remember-with horrifying distinction-from the church of my childhood, is a movie that was made in the early 1970s called A Thief in the Night. ![]() The church itself though, with its long white-tiled hallway, its labyrinth of classrooms, its red carpeted sanctuary and its dimly lit balcony will forever be associated with a whole host of mixed up emotions in my memory. I couldn’t tell you the specifics of any one sermon. Most of the hours spent at church-the First Assemblies of God Church on 4 th and Grand Avenue in Grand Junction, Colorado, to be specific-blur together. (And aren’t all elementary-aged children terrible sinners?) It’s true that living in a non-stop Pentecostal fear-fest certainly makes for some interesting stories. My daughter has been to church only a few times in her life but I spent a good portion of my childhood in Sunday school, sitting through sermons and crying at the altar-pleading for forgiveness for the sins I’d committed. My parents divorced when I was very young, which meant that I had to deal with stepparents and the dichotomy of being raised in two separate households. She told me that from what she’s heard of my childhood, I have plenty of material. When I was telling her about The Chronology of Water (don’t worry-I left out the sexy parts) I made a comment that my life has been too boring to ever write a memoir as interesting as Lidia Yuknovich’s. Two summer’s ago she was hooked by The Hunger Games series. She’s sixteen and her love of books kicked in later than many of her friends, but to my immense satisfaction she’s now an avid reader. I was telling my daughter about this book. I want to own her book so I can refer to it when I need some inspiration-which is often. As Sugar at The Rumpus would say, Lidia writes with humility and surrender, with resilience and faith, in other words she “ writes like a motherfucker.” Lidia’s story is interesting, heartbreaking at times and filled with drama, but it’s her writing that pulls me in-her ability to cut right to the point, her ability to turn the story of a life into a piece of artwork. Normally I don’t feel compelled to own a book-I’m usually content with borrowing a copy from a friend or the library, but this is one I want to buy. Earlier this week I finished reading Lidia Yuknavitch’s memoir, The Chronology of Water.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |