pitchu

Indeed. And the idea that five-year old "sportsmen" are required to trust in god before they can play the game is so abhorrent. I suppose next it'll be printed as a requirement for playing the "Cooties" game, or maybe even chewing on teething rings.

I'm a baseball fan, but when I watch the players giving that thumb-kiss-up-to-the-sky gesture (sometimes for merely reaching first!) my eyes roll and my stomach turns. If god is really so involved in god's favorite team winning the game, he ain't floatin' in the sky. Maybe god's standing by the third base coach, whispering not to send the runner, or in the dugout persuading the opposing manager to relieve the still perfectly good pitcher. Even makers of "B" movies know that angels are in the outfield, so what's god doing in the sky when he oughtta be in the game? Stupid!!

Maybe "socializing" in xianity; "connectedness" in nature?

Go buy yourself a whole bag of cookies, bp. After a nightmare like that you deserve to eat them all.

I'd take it as a good sign that your post got voted up four times, Kitty.

We all had Thanksgiving dinner here last night: my Jewish husband of 25 years, my 50-y-o birth daughter and her 14-y-o son of an African-American father, my 29-y-o pagan daughter whom we adopted out of the foster system when she was 7-y-o, her sometimes-Muslim husband (though they are divorcing), their two sons, 5- and 2-y-o, and her birth brother, 19-y-o, who has come to live with her after aging out of the foster system. We got a call from the West Coast from my other birth daughter, 48-y-o, married to a charismatic Anglican Church priest, and their daughter, 17-y-o. We put them on speaker

Happy Heathen Anniversary, Randi... and many more!

Welcome to the forums, 2Honest, and keep writing down those thoughts. You write from the bone marrow. Good for you.

Just think: there are eight young human beings who might someday be able to say, "I'm so lucky my mom decided that her life and mine were worth living free from fear."

Welcome to the site, and thanks for offering up such frankness -- you've certainly had a hard journey.

Beth, I think what you're experiencing is normal. It's a terrible, frightening thing to contemplate the loss of a parent, and I believe all of us who've gone through that experience have, in one way or another, questioned if something we did or didn't do might have altered our parent's situation: "If only I'd done the laundry like he told me to..." or "I knew I shouldn't have forgotten to call him on Fathers' Day..." or "This happened because I had an affair." In your case, this normal response of self-questioning just happens to concern your deconversion. At any rate, please treat your

End, it's easy to accept that some people have a difficult time writing. It's harder (for me, at least) to understand why someone would choose to ignore the little squiggly red line which appears under a misspelled word. There's a difference between having a difficult time writing and being lazy or dismissive when actual help, in red, is offered. Now I'm about to type a sentence using three of your misspelled words from just page seven of this thread: Those who have an apptitude for throwing in the towell regarding their spelling errors may hender their acceptance as a conscientious c

Welcome to the forums, Hercules. I appreciate your story and I could almost hear the Finnish lilt as I read your words.

He does do that, Kitty.

That was delicious, florduh. It's been a long time since I've been flattened, I, I, flattered into following the severe sharp points of articulation of the human joints of communication so deliberately fumi -fulmi furthered by the inimitatable Professor Irwin Corey.