February 06, 2006

White (Trash) Wedding

Dear Lord,

It’s wrong to judge people. I know that.

It is especially wrong to judge them while sitting in church. At least, I think it is. Generally, whatever wrong you’re doing, it’s even wronger in church. Like that grammatical error was especially wrong. Because of church.

I feel extremely guilty about the thoughts I have right now, but actually, the guilt makes me feel better. By acknowledging that what I’m doing is wrong, and feeling bad about it, I feel like less of an asshole.

Now I feel really guilty, because I just said ‘asshole’ in church. Does it count if you just think it? I’m sorry, if it does.

And I’m sorry I look down on these people, Lord. I am. It is not my place to judge, to assign value, or to hate on my fellow human beings.

But Lord, You made me. And when You did, You made it my place to mock.

You fashioned me thusly. Please keep that in mind, as I bow my head along with the congregation, bless the happy couple, and ask you the following questions:

Isn’t it wrong to wear a hat in church? I think it is, but it’s been awhile… does it depend on your particular brand of religion? And isn’t a cowboy hat particularly offensive? Unless the Lord is a Garth Brooks fan… um, are You?

Why would the bride—any bride—couple herself to a man who insists upon wearing a camouflage vest under his tuxedo jacket? Does he have to go hunting later? Can’t he take ONE day off, or do they depend upon the spoils of the woods for food? I’m guessing that’s not the case, because it must have cost a fortune to rent that Hummer Limo I saw outside.

Also, Lord… Hummer Limo? Seriously?

Why would anyone choose to get married in February? It’s cold. There’s snowstorm outside. The only people I know who got married this time if year are my parents, and that was only because… oh. Never mind, Lord.

Why is my ex-boyfriend’s mother still mad at me? I’m the best thing that ever happened to him. Can you ask her to get the hell over it, Lord? It’s not my fault he likes me more.

The groom is wearing combat boots. I know that’s not really a question, but I’m not sure how much You can see from up there, and, wow.

What, Lord, WHAT is this girl thinking? Is this really love? Is this what she imagined her wedding to be like? Is she HIGH? (If she is, Lord, please don’t tell me—I have quite a hate-on right now, and the answer might mean at least fifteen more minutes in Purgatory).

What are you trying to tell me, by sending this small six-year old girl, in her pretty Easter dress, asking me if I am married? Why does her response that I should get married, so that I don’t have to be alone, fill me with such exponential rage? Are You trying to tell me something, or is this child simply a product of a misogynistic society, brought up to believe that an uncoupled woman has no real worth? And does it really make a difference, if all that comes of it is a six-year-old with a dent in her head?

Why am I here? No, I mean it—why am I here?

Smoking in your wedding dress is tacky, yes? I mean, I don’t know Your position on smoking, but if I recall correctly, You’re pretty anti-“harming the body I gave you” and stuff. Let’s assume You don’t approve of smoking. Is the bride tarnishing the holiness of her union with each of her successive Marlboro Lights? Is it OK if she’s outside the church? Would it have been less blasphemous if they were Virginia Slims?

I’m assuming the answers to these questions are not in the Bible; I did some flipping through, as that is the only book you have in the pew magazine rack. By the way, it’s probably wrong to put a super-crossword book in there, right? I didn’t—I’m just checking. But I think I could worship and answer 3-down at the same time, is all.

I will not assume that I what I feel today has been Your direct intention, Lord. I will not speak for You. But I will tell You what I got from today’s events, and how they pertain to me personally:

I am so happy that this is not my life.

I am so happy for the way I was raised.

I am so happy my parents never smoked, or swore.

I am happy that I am unmarried. I really am. Because after today, I have seen what marriage can be, and I will take what I’ve got.

I am happy that I did not marry my ex-boyfriend. He is not like the rest of his family; he is the exception to the rule, but Lord, I am happy I did not marry him.

Because I am so happy I am not related to any of these people.

I appreciate Your sticking with me today as I try to understand these things. I would also like to apologize for forgetting the words to the Lord’s Prayer; I hope you were not offended by my substitution of the Doors’ “Hello, I Love You” instead. The tune is really very similar, and truthfully, I think You were the only one who noticed.

Thank You for Your Time,
Beedoo

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