Thank you Jesus.

Vacation station. Sitting at another desk. Clicking another mouse. At another job soon. Life is a series of multiple choice questions. I choose everyday to be better. To improve myself. I do one thing a day to improve. I do not make lists. I do not try to make my goals impossible to achieve. I do not know how you should live, but today I will do one thing positive. And if I can get one good thing in then it's just a plus if you can get in another.

I'm going to pump some iron this morning and skip church. Try to get my heart rate up, and shed some unwanted calories. It's Easter Sunday and I'm a little upset that I don't want to go. A little. My family will be there and I should too. Right? Well to each their own and I have not been feeling Churches. Especially the one I grew up in. My father was an active part of the church. He was a youth minister and recreational director there. He taught the majority of adults there how to play basketball, baseball, and tried to help develop in them a sense of morality. My mother is a deacon and sings in the choir. As did I for many years.

My life has changed. I am an adult. By all sense of the word. With a family of my own and health problems to boot. It's hard to be around all of those people and know they know all of my secrets. That they have asked my mother how I am doing and she has told them everything, most likely. They aren't secrets really, but to me not everyone needs to know everything. So there they are thinking about me, praying for me and my family. Hoping we would return to the church as we are heathens by now. Praying for our souls. If God does exist and the power of prayer is legit then I'm glad I have them in my corner. But I'd rather not play any sort of social game in order to get a leg up in heaven. If it exist?

If I showed up they would all want to know how I am doing? How is the baby? Where are you guys living? If I had the gumption to go today, I would be prepared by having a taped conversation of me telling all the sordid details of my life. Where we live? How old my baby is? What her name is? Where do I work now? Etc. Etc. Then I could play it over and over to all of the folks who ask. I'm not too sure if they really care about me, or if they are just asking so they can tell their friends and carry on the soap opera that is most Churches.

I hope they care. I hope it is not all a lie. I hope that we will die and go to heaven and that Jesus did rise from the dead. But on this Easter Sunday I will carry on that hope as a personal reflection on religion, church, and my Southern Baptist upbringing. And I will do it from the comfort of my garage pumping iron. Thank you Jesus.