Curious as a Cat

Week Number Thirty Five:

If you were to will one thing you have to your religion when you died, besides money, what would you give?

I've actually thought about this, more in relation to my dad than me. I wish he could have had his memories, wisdom, and general history of church-related activities transplanted into someone or someplace. It's a shame that what he knew wasn't appreciated as he got older; I'm relatively certain that a lot of people in the Denver Presbytery were convinced he was a crank. "Yeah, yeah, here comes Mr. ______ again." Add that to a guilty conscience and they, I'm sure, felt justified in puttin ghim off; they royally screwed him over multiple times. Still, that should go into some collective memory too, because I'd bet that those serving on the Presbytery now have no idea how their predecessors killed off the faith of some members of our family. Fuckheads.

I truly, truly hope that someone in the organization Googles "Denver Presbytery" and reads this. You guys (and the majority at that point were guys of course) fucked over and destroyed my father's 10 years of hard work, threw millions of dollars into the garbage for a quick financial gain, and caused undue and probably terminal suffering for my family. Maybe this is part of the reason I have no interest in moving back to Denver, and why I struggle so much against current church polity, although I doubt I'll ever stop being Presbyterian deep down inside.

Whew. Sorry. Venting.

[See, this is what happens when I go through my parents papers; I find dirty evidence of evil done in God's name.]

I am not sure about much. But I'm sure where my loyalties lie. [Bet you can't tell where!]