didn't get the memo
So I get a letter in the mail today from the old church I used to attend with my parents. It's a Presbyterian church in the Valley--Northridge, to be precise. Good people. Good, god-fearing, suburban, SUV-driving, soccer-team-carpooling, VentiDoubleLatteWithSugarFreeVanilla-sloshing, private-school-booster-supporting, real-estate-agent-husband-and-wife-team-beaming, heavily-chlorinated-backyard-pool-with-deck-self-poured-by-do-it-yourselfer-husband-suntanning, ...
I burnt out on church around the age of eleven when my sunday school teacher told me that since I hadn't been baptized, I wasn't as close
a part of god's family as the other kids were (my parents had left me unbaptized so I could choose for myself (or perhaps they were lazy and let it slide--as I grow older, more and more I think that may be the case).
Attending Catholic school during junior high and high school finished me off.
The letter surprised me. I've never gotten any correspondence from them. How could they even know my current address? I stopped attending YEARS before I moved out of my parents' home.
Inside, it basically said that if I'd found a new church ("your relocation" it mentioned) I should let them know, as they were about to add me to their "Inactive Members" roster. I thought that was funny, since I'd never really been an active member--I was ten years old, for chrissakes (so to speak).
Then I noticed the handwritten note at the bottom. In elegant, compact cursive its tiny letters read "Could not reach your family to get your new name and address...sorry."
"...Congratulations on your marriage and all good wishes... -M."
The letter was then signed by Ms. Marion Swarthout, Clerk of Session.
Hello? You people know something I don't know?
I mean, you're all talkin' to god and whatever.