Thou shall not use the Lord’s name in Vain

This was actually something that happened a few years back, when Jillian was a baby, Kaitlyn was two and my son, Aiden, was four. I’d forgotten about this until now...

We’d had, for many months now, a family of Jehovah’s Witness stopping in about once every weekend. I like to think it was because we were just so gosh darn nice, that they saw an inner spark in us that made them want to become acquainted with us. I mean, we certainly weren’t in need of redemption. True, we don’t attend church as often as we should (we’re Roman Catholic). True, familial prayers of thankfulness are only brought out and dusted off for those big holiday get together’s. Despite these lapses, I like to think I’m raising my children to know the difference between right and wrong, to be respectful and polite, to follow the age-old, golden adage of ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’ They are good children, if a bit hyper at times, but their hearts are large and filled with love, both given and received….

But I digress. The reason I’m telling you all this is because I was so proud of myself whenever our Jehovah’s ‘friends’ showed up. I was polite, my children were… well, not screaming and running around like maniacs, my house was relatively clean. We always took their ‘newsletters’ with a smile and promise to look them over. When pressured, we gently replied that we were happy with the church we currently attended. I guess I truly thought they kept on coming back because we were always so open and friendly. I think it must be hard to be part of a religion that makes their members go on ‘quests’ to recruit new members. I mean, look at what happens when the Rainbow Vacuum Specialists are making the rounds! The first ‘victim’ in the neighborhood, after slamming the door in their face, quickly calls around to all the neighbors, who then go into Escape and Evade mode. Doors are locked and bolted, lights are turned off, you grab the children and hide in the back room closet, hoping, praying that the vacuum toting salesperson (who promises to get 6 square feet of your carpet cleaner than you can imagine—and leave the rest so dirty that you HAVE to buy the vacuum or, new carpet) will get tired of knocking their knuckles raw on the front door and leave before the baby starts squalling and gives you away. I imagine that the reception to traveling ‘religious recruiters’ is not all that different. So I honestly thought that stopping by so routinely was their way of fulfilling their quota for the week with a friendly, ‘no doors slammed in your face’, kinda family.

Until that fateful day…

On this day, the house was not clean, in fact it looked like a tornado had struck: racing through the house, upturning cushions, scattering toys, flinging shoes and socks far and wide… On this day, my face did not hold a friendly smile; a combination of illness, stress, lack of sleep and hyper children had set my features into a permanent down turned scowl…. On this day, my eldest child, my son, the child that most resembles me in personality and physical features, decided to reveal to not just myself, but our faithful guests, just how far from polite and respectful we were…

Jillian was crying, again. I had determined at 3 am that morning that she must be teething, or still suffering lingering effects from the nasty viral infection that she’d had the past week. The same viral infection that I was currently suffering from. Cold? you ask. Um, no. It was not, merely, a cold. This illness grabbed onto you like the flu, claws unsheathed: high fever, aching body, sore throat soon followed by the coughing hacking, sneezing, stuffy, pounding headache symptoms of a whopper, Nyquil—so you can get your rest medicine—cold. Only I couldn’t rest, and it wasn’t the flu (I’d already brought my children to the doctor and been told it was just ‘a nasty virus going around’). Regardless, I was miserable—and so was Jillian. My elder children, on the other hand, were not miserable. They were having a grand time amusing themselves. A game of bowling for toys had ensued in the hallway downstairs, a rousing diversion of fling your dirty socks onto the fan had followed, after that… well, I don’t know what they’d done after that.

I was just trying to survive.

So needless to say, it was not with any sort of miniscule relief when the doorbell rang and diverted me from my all important quest for survival. I glanced up at the clock: 9am, realized the day… dawning horror clenched my chest. The Jehovah’s Witness were here—to witness my failure as a mother and housewife. Great. Trying to twist my scowl into some semblance of a smile, and failing miserably, I jammed my finger into Jillian’s mouth (she wouldn’t use a binky, only my upside down finger) hoping the enticing fleshy treat would curb a needy baby’s appetite for constant attention and quiet the ceaseless crying. A piercing scream emitted from somewhere upstairs. I responded in kind; cringed as I realized my visitors probably heard that, too. My hand closed on the doorknob, I took a quick glance around—oh hell, I mean heck, oh heck—and opened the door anyway.

“Hello,” the lovely, impeccably dressed woman holding pamphlet and bible greeted me. “How are you today?”

I glanced down. If my sweatshirt clad body and red nose wasn’t a big ole ‘Not Well’ sign, then these people had no idea what the meaning of true suffering was. Then again, when faced with crucifixion and end of days scenarios on a daily basis, my misery was miniscule to them.

I mumbled a reply, then tried to divert their attention, “And you?”

Which of course, paved the way for an in depth homily on the recent teachings of the pamphlet she was holding. My sad attempt of a smile faded by the first coming. By the time I was given a refresher course on the sacrifice Our Lord Savior had made for us, my ears had plugged up.

Something bumped my elbow. Aiden, curious as to who the visitor’s were.

Jehovah’s shepherdess smiled down at him, then went on to wax poetically about the second coming of Christ and when Jesus descended-

My eyes glazed over.

Aiden pushed forward, eyes wide, and exclaimed in his best evangelical preacher voice…..

“Did you say ‘Geee-zus’!?"

Oh God-I mean gosh... I hung my head in shame.