Fighting My Inner Church Lady
(Note: This post has been modified, via the comments. Sometimes, things are much better than they seem! In my experience, this is USUALLY the case….)
I went to church this morning. Please forgive the jumbled blog post. I’m still recovering.
My family and I arrived an hour late, and then my “things must always be as I expect them to be” son had a near-total breakdown over the fact that our messy crate of McCall notebooks, pens, crayons, and child-amusing toys had disappeared from its former place in the back of the sanctuary.
I can’t blame anyone for removing the eyesore. We had been absent for months.
Going back, even for half a service, was much harder than I anticipated. I was clobbered by anxiety and fear as I combed my hair, and changed out of my Betty Boop, “Naughty Girls get Nice Gifts” t-shirt and short black skirt into jeans and a conservatively cut sweater. The sweater was, for the record, bright orange. I still had my spark, but not my sense of humor, it seems.
The fact is that I am afraid of church ladies.
There, I said it. That being said, I know that even feeling that way is a judgmental attitude on my part. The very label, “church ladies,” hearkens back to a not-nice-at-all SNL skit. And, the fact is that a couple of my dearest friends (women, even!) were there this morning, and they have continued to be my friends, and to maintain those relationships whether or not I show up to the same building that they do on Sunday mornings.
Our pastor hugged me, bright orange sweater and all. He would have hugged me in my Betty Boop T-shirt, I’m pretty sure. I’m also pretty sure that he would have been answering to some church ladies if he had. But, now I’m judging. Again.
I judge people whom I perceive as being judgmental, and this makes me judgmental. And then I judge myself. What a mess I turn out to be!
When we showed up, our pastor was preaching about who the Accuser of the Brethren is, and not being like him. He was encouraging humility, and being willing to get kicked in the teeth when you get down low, and humble yourself. He spoke about how often being a Christian in America seems to be all about accusing others, and how wrong that is. He encouraged us to love unconditionally.
A few people did reach out. I appreciated each one, and then a few of the ladies beat a hasty exit, refusing to even glance in my direction. I expected that, and coming in the first place was an act of humbling myself. This afternoon, my teeth hurt. There’s at least a chance that they each had a pressing engagement, and simply had to leave. But I’m a bit over-sensitive at church, and a smile and a wave on your way out the door doesn’t take any time at all.
The fact is, though, that they probably have no idea what an effort it is for me to show up on Sunday morning. They have no idea that they have the power to hurt me. They’re running to protect themselves. They run because my family’s continued absence has made them feel rejected, judged and scorned. At least, I’d like to believe that. It hurts less than the alternative theories I could manufacture.
I have a long history of making church ladies (and men) VERY uncomfortable.
As a teen whose physical dimensions resembled a Barbie Doll’s, I listened to my pastor rail against young women who tempt men with their bodies, and I learned to walk with my shoulders hunched. I learned to wear baggy clothes until I grew up and away from them.
As a recent college grad, with a degree in Classical Studies and Religion, I learned that “conservative” country churches don’t appreciate women who are educated, and have opinions. Especially about God, or childrearing.
As a young mother, I learned that nursing, even discreetly, at church will create such a maelstrom of gossip and upset amongst the women of a “liberal” church that the pastor will call you and explain that you are a terrifying woman, and you’d better stop hurting his sheep.
And as a new business-woman, who felt called to fight the colossal mess that sexual relationships and marriages in our culture and churches have become by fighting the Madonna-Whore complex with every ounce of my being, I discovered that my pastor is amazing. He’s not threatened by female sexuality, me, or what I do. He floors me.
And church ladies are still church ladies, because the face says, “we support you,” but the actions, and the several complaining calls to said pastor last summer say otherwise. Frankly, I don’t know how to respond. The women who are my friends outside of church are still that, and both their faces, and their actions agree.
“We love you.”
“We support you.”
I believe them. And I know that my pastor wants so desperately to see his whole church that way. He wants to believe that we are all loving, accepting, etc. He is NOT the Accuser of the Brethren. That’s certain. I’ve never met a more accepting, yet call-you-on-your-bullshit man in my life. And he says, “WE support you.” In my limited understanding, he’s the first pastor to really try. (Except for James Reist. Dr. Reist, who baptized our first son, is also amazing.)
I meet women every week, men too, who need someone like that in their lives. I need more people like that in my life. We all need to be loved unconditionally, and told to get our shit together, too. But the Sunday morning mask-fest, where we all pretend to be something we’re not, and complain to the pastor when someone steps out of line, is not the place to bring them.
I know that much of my discomfort at church is because, in a group so small, “several” complaining calls is significant. I know that much of it is because of my history in churches. And I know that maybe, just maybe, I am supposed to humble myself, and let them kick me in the teeth. Half of me wants to climb on stage and demand that they just get the stoning over with. (Except that I’m pretty sure things are split about down the middle, and I’d just be creating a rift so large that the community itself might disintegrate. Or maybe it’s egotism that makes me think that they care enough, either way.) The other half of me wants to run away, so that I don’t have to, once again, be the woman who makes people at church uncomfortable. None of me wants to put on my shiny happy mask, pretend that I enjoyed seeing everyone, and then call to complain to the pastor when I get home.
No, I didn’t enjoy church this morning. Yes, I could tell that my casual, honest comments to a couple of people felt like slaps in the face. The avoidance of others felt like a slap in my own. The whole experience inspired me to don my running shoes. (Of course, Aaron can be VERY persuasive. He got me to church this morning, and if he so chooses, he’ll get me there again, I’m sure.)
Yes, I knew that the friends whom I see away from church, too, were genuinely happy to see me. And my pastor gave me the world’s longest hug. He can feel me pulling back; he sees my family and I slipping away. I don’t know what to tell him. He’s doing all he can, but the entire institution of church in America seems to be at odds with him.
He’s right. Being the Accuser of the Brethren is the American way of Church. And I’m just as guilty as anyone else. I was raised in it, and I don’t know how to get free from it, except to stay away from church. But in doing so, I am judging those I leave behind. I’m deciding that they judge me. I haven’t asked them, either. As soon as the church ladies called the pastor, instead of me, I categorized them as people who don’t really love or accept me, at all. Judge not, that you be not judged? Yeah, I fail at that. Judgment, it seems, is a web, and we’re all caught in its sticky strands.
Tags: accuser, church, fear, judgment, Madonna-Whore Complex
AmberDawn,
Just for the record, I think you are a hot mess, and that is one of the most awesome things you have to offer to the rest of us in your world, your honesty about you… I personally, have enough cookie cutter friends, I like you because of the role you play in my life, and what we can share in an respectful adult manor. Thanks for being my “Hot Mess” friend.
Judgements are often framed by ignorance, fears, or pride, …. often stifling stupendous, galling, astonishing, pride. It is good to remember that often who we deem as judgemental are the ones who really need the grace. Grace not easily given when we feel slighted.
Nobody with a log in his eye can see clearly. She is dangerously low on discernment. And, since we all have this distorted perspective, we need either to be very humble or else leave judging to God alone. We have a moral responsibility to judge the moral behavior of others—but only if we are humbly aware that we will sometimes be dead wrong and never totally right.
Church ladies have their smiles pasted and their clothes pressed. I believe inside they are twisted and afraid. Rarely have I met a church lady that I found genuine and humble, whose life mirrors their words. A treasure for sure. I hope Im never a church lady.
I’m laughing right now, because I wrote this post not knowing that as I was feeling so out of place, and weird, and potentially rejected, I was being blessed.
You see, people do love and support me at my church. Not just the pastor, either. It’s amazing. One of the men offered me a loaner car, via Aaron, to drive for a month or two while I save up for a business car. A metro, with snow tires. Can I express how grateful and amazed I am by this man, and by our God? I’m not sure how, but I’ll try: Wow!!!
And… Thank you for your comments, ladies! I appreciate them so very much.
I’ve always loved my crazy, outspoken friend AmberDawn. The one who always scandalized people and made me more willing to do the same. I’ve always loved that about you.
I’ve also always hated that it does truly hurt you when you scandalize others. That what others thought of you could affect you so much. You’re one of the smartest, most caring people I know, but I don’t think it’s necessarily you being judgmental, I think it’s often more fear of not being accepted which causes you to pull away. You’ve always been one of the LEAST judgmental people I’ve known, making friends with the unlikeliest of people.
Don’t worry about the ‘church ladies.’ Your happiness surpasses them by leaps and bounds, and if they judge you, it is because of your free spirit and your ability to be a happy, confident, sexy, intelligent and independent woman. Something that likely, within the small confines of their experiences, and self and society imposed boundaries, they can never be.
I had no idea church was so hard for you yesterday. It was really nice to see you all.
I hope maybe you will see from reflecting on all of this how much you and your family are NEEDED at church.
Love you!
This post of yours was hard for me to read, because I don’t know your community or your church, and because my whole life I wanted to be a “church lady”…but I’m not sure my definition and your definition of a church lady are the same. I value the rules, some of the conservative dress styles, and many of the manners in my church (which is not the same denomination as yours). However, I wouldn’t want to be seen as catty or a whispering, or a complaining church lady. I would hope I would have enough fortitude to mention whatever bothered me to whoever it was. But, I know there are times when I haven’t been able to do this, and I’ve asked for help.
If it is too long, I won’t be offended if you remove it.
Perhaps the women you are frustrated with, who called the pastor and complained, did not know how to approach you. Though for me it has been relatively rare that I have met a woman who went to someone else for help before first trying to address me with a conflict she had with me, it HAS happened. In those instances, while those women have been very difficult for me, they have provided me new insight into my own ways of dealing with other people. Even when I knew they were “wrong”, I found there was always “a little truth” to their side, and I learned how to see a little bit of what they saw, and to improve myself in that area.
Additionally, I wanted to say that I can understand why you wouldn’t like being stared down for nursing a child in a church. That’s a bummer, and it may be just your church or your community. I nursed my child in our church, and never had that feeling. I was thankful that there were other women in our church who nursed, and I always thought it was better to be able to nurse because it kept my son calm through the service.
It’s been years since I’ve seen or talked to you (save through facebook of course), but you seem to be a brave and empowered/empowering woman. Just remember not to let what things “seem” to be to create your reality.
I will end on a personal story about the previous sentence. Last year I had received a gift from someone that was unexpected and unneccessary. One person in my office percieved that the gift was this elder man’s way of trying to woo me. Of course that wasn’t the case at all and that perception alone hurt my feelings. Well, a short while later I walked into another office in our building and two different people (friends of the first) were talking about a woman that the same elder gentleman was supposedly “wooing” and calling his “girlfriend”. At the time I walked in the two people immediately stopped talking, so I thought they were talking about me, and that the first person had already been gossiping about what I’d already stated (to the first person) was untrue. I was hurt, and actually confronted those two (privately). They both came to talk to me together and told me that I was mistaken. Unfortunately while they were telling me why I was mistaken one of them told me what they were actually talking about when I walked in, and the other one told me something completely different, which I assume was a lie…therefore since the stories came out different while they were both talking to me at the same time, I assumed both lied, and I didn’t find out until 10 months later (a few weeks ago) that the first one actually told me the truth about what they’d been talking about. This actually was a catalyst in marring what could have been a friendship with both people. The person who lied ended up leaving shortly thereafter. I have no idea if what that person said had any truth in it at all. The person who told the truth is still around, but because of this particular event, compounded with my perception of other events, we have never had a very strong relationship. When I found out a few weeks ago that the truth had been told, I tried to start working on reparing that relationship. Perhaps, if I hadn’t been so worried about their perception at the time, and had just accepted what they said at that time our relationships would not be in the uneasy state that they are now. Incidentally, whole bit of gossip by those two started because the woman who was being “wooed” had the perception that the elder gentleman was wooing her. The elder gentleman was not doing that at all. People judge perceptions more frequently than realities…so, when they say “judge not that you be not judged” perhaps it should be “do not use your perception to judge another’s reality, so that you be not judged by someone elses perception of your reality”. Good luck AmberDawn. I enjoy reading your posts and your blogs. I hope this response isn’t too long and that you can relate to it at least a little.
I get it totally. And, I especially love this part:
“People judge perceptions more frequently than realities…so, when they say “judge not that you be not judged” perhaps it should be “do not use your perception to judge another’s reality, so that you be not judged by someone elses perception of your reality”. ”
That sums up my problem EXACTLY. Because my expectation is a cycle of gossip and rejection in churches, I CREATE that reality in my own mind.
And life really is how you see it. The fact is that most people were very friendly, and while I was expecting judgment, someone was offering to loan me a car to tote my business supplies around in. So, ultimately, I am learning a huge lesson.
I’m pretty sure that people who ran away were hurt by my continued absence, or just in a hurry. My paranoia CREATED my own pain. And confessing it publicly has provided me with so much fantastic wisdom from others, like yourself, that I am blessed, after all. Thank you.
Thank you, dear!
Interesting perspective. I look forward to talking to you, Wednesday.
This seem aproppriate. It is a C.S. Lewis quotation that I ran across today, where Screwtape is offering a toast:
“You know how this wine is blended? Different types of Pharisee have been harvested, trodden, and fermented together to produce its subtle flavour. Types that were most antagonistic to one another on Earth. Some were all rules and relics and rosaries; others were all drab clothes, long faces, and petty traditional abstinences from wine or cards or the theatre. Both had in common their self-righteousness and an almost infinite distance between their actual outlook and anything the Enemy really is or commands. The wickedness of other religions was the really live doctrine in the religion of each; slander was its gospel and denigration its litany. How they hated each other up where the sun shone! How much more they hate each other now that they are forever conjoined but not reconciled. Their astonishment, their resentment, at the combination, the festering of their eternally impenitent spite, passing into our spiritual digestion, will work like fire. Dark fire. All said and done, my friends, it will be an ill day for us if what most humans mean by “Religion” ever vanishes from the Earth. It can still send us the truly delicious sins. Nowhere do we tempt so successfully as on the very steps of the altar.”
From http://screwtapeblogs.wordpress.com/2009/06/30/screwtape-proposes-a-toast/
I love that book, Sherrill.
You do surprise me and Yes, I hope to see you at church again soon.