The final chapter and the prologue to the rest of my life
Somebody I Used to Know–Part 4
In less than a week, I will turn 49 years old. One more year until I’m 50. I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around that. However, I’m already checking off seemingly requisite middle-aged qualities:
✔ I wake up early in the morning before the alarm goes off.
✔ I have a terry-cloth robe and slippers that I put on as soon as I get up.
✔ I watch a few minutes of the Weather Channel while drinking my morning coffee.
✔ I enjoy being the only one up in the morning, relishing the darkness and solitude.
✔ I’d rather eat dinner earlier rather than later.
✔ I’m usually ready for bed by 9 p.m.
I have also become more introspective. Amanda and I no longer have children in the house. Our kids are now adults–our youngest just turned 18 last week. They are each figuring out their futures–I relish the days when they were little, but I do not miss them. It’s exciting to see the paths they are carving out for themselves.
This essay has been bouncing around in my head for a while now. I am not sure if it would be the last essay of this series or if there were more percolating. I tend to write in spurts–I will be on a streak and get three pieces out, then take a month off because I’m just not feeling it. One thing I have discovered is that my writing can’t be forced.
To catch us up, I think we need a “Previously, on…”
In Somebody I Used to Know, I introduced the running theme for this series of essays: My deconversion story.
In Playing House with my Faith, I explored my life before college and how being raised in an evangelical denomination influenced my early decisions.
In Eyes Wide Open, I explored my life in college and the moment that started my deconversion process.
And now, we get to this essay: The final chapter and the prologue to the rest of my life.
I would love to say I was this free-thinking, radical, religion-free individual after college. I wasn’t. I still struggled with how to fit Christianity and religion into my life. I tried to find a “home” church where I was comfortable, could attend, and be a part of. I still considered myself a Christian, just one that was still searching. That seemed reasonable.
I met some people my age and started attending the United Methodist Church in the town where I taught. The church was fine, but in retrospect, I went to socialize with other young adults. I went to Bible studies to hang out and church on Sundays as something to do. It had nothing to do with being fed spiritually, but I didn’t realize that then.
Soon after, Amanda and I met, and due to my upbringing, I felt it was important that we have a church wedding. We were married in the church that I had been attending. Soon after, I stopped attending that church. Since Amanda was raised Episcopalian, we decided to find an Episcopal church we both liked. We discovered one that is no longer in existence. But that church, again, served more of a social outlet to us. Our social life revolved around church, and church revolved around our social life. Due to a series of events, we stopped attending that church, and our social group drifted apart.
Amanda and I talked about how we felt about not attending any church, and for the first time in my life, I did not feel the need to go. I was happy to not attend, so I didn’t. And I haven’t returned to a church service in a long time. I have read many stories about people who have de-converted but have a missing gap in their life that church/spirituality used to fill. I have never had that feeling. I left and have not longed for it at any point.
Not attending church was probably the second defining moment in my religious attrition. The third and final pièce de résistance happened about 4 or 5 years ago during Christmas.
I love the Christmas season. I begin listening to Christmas Music in October. And it isn’t only the music I love–I love the food, the traditions, the family time, the coziness, the TV shows, the movies–I adore it all. A few years ago, I got a feeling that I couldn’t shake about the authenticity of the story of the virgin birth. I just had a hard time believing in it anymore. At one point in my life, I would have accepted it without a second thought, but now–I wasn’t so sure. The story itself is fine; it’s great, but the more I thought, researched, and processed, the more I could not believe it. I struggled with listening to religious Christmas songs–songs I absolutely cherished–because I no longer believed in their words. It took me a while to differentiate that a song can be beautiful and meaningful and not have to be believed to be enjoyed.
Funnily enough, when decorating, I still put out a nativity scene. Amanda’s grandmother gave us one many years ago. It is made of wood and very simple–it is merely the outlines and shapes of the different figures. Sentimentality aside, It took me some time to figure out why I still put it out. But I came to the simple conclusion that just because there are Santa Claus ornaments on our tree, doesn’t mean I have to believe in Santa.
So that brings us to today.
I’m about to turn 49, and I’m living a very different life than what my parents probably had in mind for me. I don’t care because I think this life is better than even I could have imagined. I have an unbelievable family. My wife is my partner and knows me better than I even know myself. And it still boggles my mind that she chose me (and we have been married for 22 ½ years). We have four amazing kids who, in turn, are finding their partners. Our family is rapidly increasing, and no words can describe the joy this brings me.
Ultimately, I can sum up all four of these essays in this simple thought: The things I have in my life, I want, need, and desire. What I don’t have in my life, namely Christianity, I don’t need and I don’t miss.