Chapter Two
That Tuesday afternoon, right before the women were due to arrive, Greg and I got in a minor argument. He wanted me to run some errands for him after the prayer meeting, and I was already feeling burdened to the max. I politely informed him that I had to cook dinner after the meeting was over and asked him why he couldn’t do it. Something I’d never done before.
I have to say that I was a little startled by what I considered overreaction. I saw right away that he was furious. The look on his face almost frightened me. In fact, it brought to mind the day I had seen my Mom react to Dad with fear.
Was I now becoming my mother?
Fortunately for me the doorbell rang, and I went to answer it. It was Nancy, but her aunt didn’t come. Nancy said Ruth had a migraine and would have to pass.
I had left Greg standing at the kitchen door that looked out into our little living room. His face was still flushed with anger when I let Nancy in. He did stifle his anger for Nancy’s sake, but I could see it wasn’t over yet. He bid Nancy hello with a polite smile and then turned to me. “Get those errands done!”
Without further ado he quickly left, passing the other women now filing into our living room.
Nancy definitely noticed. She was shorter than I by about three inches. She turned her brown eyes up to me and whispered, “You okay?”
“I’m not really certain,” I replied.
She glanced around at the other women who were taking their seats in the chairs we had placed in a circle in the living room, Bibles in their laps, and then turned back to me. “Hey… If you ever need to talk, I’m all ears.”
“Thanks! Maybe I will.”
She smiled pleasantly and took her seat.
I retrieved my Bible from the end table, along with my notes and went to the middle of the circle to lead the group in an opening prayer. Something that I definitely did not feel like doing.
I could tell Nancy was bored out of her gourd, as the old saying goes. However, she came the next week too. I did notice that she was wearing long sleeves both times, and it had to be ninety plus outside. Of course we had air conditioning, but the other girls in the group, and even the older ladies, all wore short sleeves.
So, I took it upon myself the second Tuesday afternoon when we were taking a refreshment break to just come right and ask her. I stepped up to the coffee machine and poured myself a cup, sweetened it and turned to her, as she was helping herself to some fruit punch. “Your red blouse is really pretty, but aren’t you hot in those long sleeves?”
She took a sip of her drink and blushed before sitting her glass aside. Then in almost a whisper, she replied, “Tattoos. I have tattoos.”
“Oh!” I felt kind of sorry I had asked. It had not been my intention to embarrass her, but by her expression, I surely had.
“Aunt Ruth informed me that the church frowns upon them. That’s why I’m wearing long sleeves.”
I indicated with a vague nod that she was correct. “Yes. The Bible is pretty clear about one not getting tattoos. But hey… Once you turn to Christ, it will be forgiven.” I thought surely that my telling her that she would be forgiven she would feel better about it.
That was hardly the impression I received though.
Instead, she responded with, “Hmmm … That doesn’t really hit me right.”
Confused myself, I inquired, “But you’ll be forgiven?”
Her tone changed to slightly sarcastic. “What? What I do to my body? The clothes I wear? Makeup? All that can be considered sinful? I see the women here wear little if any makeup. I thought it was what was in a person’s heart, not what they wore or did to their own bodies that made them good?”
“Yes! Of course, you have a valid point. But the Bible—.”
She put out a hand. “Hey! It’s okay. I’m only here to humor my aunt.” She took another sip of her punch, eyeing me over the brim of her glass, pondering something. She set the glass aside and said, “Between you and me,” she said, glancing off at the others as she spoke in a low tone, “I can see you’re not happy. In fact, you’re miserable! So why on Earth would you want to pass that on to someone else?”
She had me. In an instant, she had changed from what I had believed to be an unassuming young woman to a girl who clearly knew what she wanted.
And it wasn’t church.
“I… I’m sorry. I guess I thought you were here for the Lord.”
She turned to walk away.
“Wait… please,” I said.
She swung back around.
“I like you, Nancy. And – Yes…” I lowered my voice then. “You’re right. I am miserable.”
Her eyes lit up and a gratified grin spread across her freckle-sprinkled face. “I like you too.”
She went over to the chair she’d been sitting in and snatched up her small purse, took out a card and gave it to me. “My number and address, if you ever decide you want to change your life for the better.”
I’m sure my eyes were saucers of surprise by her statement. I tentatively took the card and thanked her.
“You’re welcome. And, I won’t be coming to these meetings anymore. However, I have a group of friends of my own whom I would love to introduce you too. We meet once a month.”
“I’ll definitely consider it,” I replied, wondering where this was leading, if anywhere.
She grinned as though pleased and returned to her seat. It was then that I realized the ten minutes of break time had gone into twenty. I apologized to the rest of the women and went back to leading the women in their lesson for the day.
Of course, Dad and Greg kept me way too busy to even think much about what had transpired between Nancy and me. I literally felt like they were trying to run me to death: cooking for special Sunday night dinners every fifth Sunday – of course others brought dishes as well – but being a pastor’s wife, I had to furnish the main course. There was the Tuesday afternoon gatherings, and then visiting sick folks in the hospital and nursing homes at least one day a week. That didn’t include my regular chores of buying our own groceries, cooking our own meals, and fulfilling my ‘wifely’ duties for Greg.
There had been a time when I desired him beyond belief, and at first he had taken the time for a certain amount of foreplay. After almost a year of being married, though, it was pretty much cut down to his being satisfied, and my being so tired with everything else, that I really didn’t care much that I was left high and dry and sexually frustrated.
It hit me one afternoon when I was out shopping for church supplies that – aside from the fact that I didn’t have a baby to care for – I had not one but two very demanding men to care for. What’s more, they totally expected it of me. Without question, they considered it my duty!
I think I stopped in my tracks then. I was in Costco in front of a big display of diapers. The longer I stood there and thought about it, the more it hammered home to me –
I was a fool!
“Oh dear God! Mom, how could I be so blind?”
Not only had I not listened to her and made a life of misery for myself, I was doing double-time. I literally had no life of my own!
Right then and there I opened my purse and searched for Nancy’s card. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it stuck in a slot in my wallet. “Thank you! Thank you!”
I realized that a middle-aged Hispanic woman was staring at me strangely.
I smiled at her and said, “Thought I lost it. Friend’s phone number.”
She smiled back and continued on with her shopping.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to get away from Dad and Greg long enough to do much of anything that wasn’t directly connected with the church and family. I was desperate though and had to think of something. After some consideration and thought, I realized that I could tell Greg that I wanted to pay a visit to a possible new parishioner. I made the point of reminding him that she was the niece of Ruth Jamison. Did he remember her?
At first, he didn’t.
I
pressed the issue though. Told him that I thought she needed spiritual guidance. Actually I was the one who needed a spiritual uplifting.
Finally, he recalled her coming to church with Ruth. “Oh! Yes. I remember now,” he said. “The girl with mousy brown hair and freckles.”
“Yes! She’s the one.”
He blew out air. “Well, okay. Since it’s for a good cause, I suppose we can spare you for a bit. Just don’t forget to print up the church pamphlets for Sunday morning service.”
I walked out the door that evening and peered up at the star-filled sky. For the first time in I couldn’t remember when I felt a taste of freedom. Yes! Wonderful blessed freedom! I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, at least, for a few hours.
I have to admit that I was kind of shocked when Nancy opened the door. The lights had been turned off, but candles were lit everywhere. There were four other your women in the room. Rebecca with long blonde hair in braids – looked Scandinavian, Maggie with short black hair and big dark eyes, Lisa with wavy red hair to her shoulders, and Char with chestnut hair and hazel eyes. All the girls wore necklaces with silver stars and Char had a tattoo of a woman that looked Egyptian on her right arm. Under it was the name Isis.
I have to admit that I was a bit ignorant of witchcraft, but right away I knew that something strange was going on. Having lived a much sheltered church life, I instantly felt out of place.
Nancy knew right away that I was uncomfortable. She smiled supportively up to me and said, “Now you know how I feel when I am in your church.”
“You’re… You’re …”
“Wiccan’s,” Char replied. “We are witches.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, suffering momentary panic. “This was a big mistake. I should go.” I turned to walk back out.
“No! No! No!” Nancy quickly replied. “I suffered through your church services and classes a couple of times. The least you can do is find out what we are really about.” She skewed her head inquisitively to the right. “You have to admit it’s only fair.”
All the women stood around me. They were determined. Of that, I had no doubt.
I stuttered. “I… I… I… Greg will kill me. And so will my father. I can’t be here!
Rebecca, the tallest one with braids spoke, “Oh yes you can! We can prove to you that all you’ve been taught through the years is nothing but bull!”
“What?” I was not only incredulous now, I felt insulted. “How dare you!”
Nancy didn’t hesitate to get in my face. “Just give us five minutes, Brenda. Please!” she pleaded, voice softening.
I was scared. I had no idea what to expect.
“You’re not happy,” Nancy said. “You admitted to me that you aren’t. So give yourself a chance to learn what your right to know is.”
“All right,” I said. “Five minutes.”
Rebecca spoke again, “Did you know that the original story of Noah was taken from The Epic of Gilgamesh? That there are stories of a flood in many of the world’s mythologies? Noah is not original!”
Then Char piped up, “Did you know that Isis’ worshipers had to be baptized? Baptism did not originate with Christianity!”
“What? No! You’re wrong!” I insisted.
“No we’re not!” Nancy replied. “We can show you.”
Maggie spoke up for the first time. She held a big Bible in her hand. The first half was written in Hebrew and the second in English. There were notes at the bottom of the pages as well. She proceeded to point a finger to a passage in Genesis. “Look here, Brenda. Have you ever wondered why it says gods here? Why is it plural?”
“Oh…” I said, familiar with the scripture and repeating what I’d heard my father say, “It just means the heavenly court.”
“No! That’s not what it means at all,” Brenda insisted. “It means there is more than one god.”
“To put it simply,” Char interjected, “the Jews took the mythologies of the world, slapped Jewish names on the characters and credited the stories as their own, wanting the world to believe that they were the chosen race.”
I felt like I was under some kind of attack. It was all too much too quick. I shook from head to foot. I realize now, though, that they knew I would not sit down and simply listen. They had to throw as much at me as they could while they had the chance. I had no idea where all this was coming from and was in no way prepared for what I was hearing. “No! You’ve got to be wrong!”
Nancy gently took my hand. “Hey… It’s up to you whether you want to learn the truth or not. Not saying we have all the answers, but what you have been raised to believe all your life is… basically… lies!”
“Just do some research, Brenda,” Char interjected.
“I can see you are upset,” Rebecca stated. “But you have a right to know the truth. Don’t take our word for it. Research what we’re telling you.”
“You have a computer, don’t you?” Nancy asked.
“Yes…”
“Then look up the works of James Frazier and Robert Graves, to name a few. There are more. What you have been taught is all lies.”
“But what about Jesus?” I threw in, not sure what to say now.
Nancy replied, “I personally believe he was a teacher, a very enlightened guru, possibly. He did stand up to the Jews. What’s more, he never really claimed to be the son of God. He referred to himself as the son of man.”
I thought about it a minute. “I couldn’t recall Jesus ever saying he was the only son of God. However, there were passages that could be construed that way. “Okay,” I said, more to appease them than anything. “I’ll research what you’ve said.”
“Good!” Nancy replied. “That’s all we ask. But don’t rush it. Take your time. It took me a while to realize the truth. Because of all the years of conditioning, it takes time to see the truth even when it is right smack in your face.”
“Okay,” I replied. “Okay. I promise to look into it.” I turned to go then, and Rebecca opened the door for me.
Nancy said, “You’re always welcome, Brenda. If you decide you want to come back, give me a call.”
“Okay. I will. Thanks… I think.” I left with a headache. I had no earthly idea what to think.
I was so upset that I drove around for half an hour before returning home. Besides, I hadn’t been gone that long, and Greg would know things didn’t go well if I went home too soon.
I kept thinking about all the things the girls had thrown at me. “They can’t be right,” I assured myself. “They have to be wrong.”
Suddenly my mother’s face came to mind. I thought of all the things she had tried to instill in me and the things that she had questioned all her life. She always said that something just didn’t feel right. That a truly loving God would not treat women as second-rate, that they would be equal with men.
Another thing she had questioned was the fact that one could pray and pray and pray and often it was as though God either never heard, or, if He did, He didn’t care. Of course, my Dad’s answer to that was simple – If it isn’t God’s will, then it isn’t God’s will. It isn’t going to happen.
My father, as so many other preachers I had heard over the years when they had come as guest ministers, insisted that God’s word was infallible. Well, if that were true, why were there so many inconsistencies? The Old Testament would say one thing, but Jesus would say something to the contrary in the New Testament. Why was that? I had to admit, the young pagan women had set me to thinking. However, I was too shook up right then to do anything about it. I merely went home and did my best to make myself appear as though all had gone well.
I’m not entirely certain that Greg bought my charade, but he didn’t question me. I did my best to put on a happy face. It was bedtime, but I hadn’t forgotten the fliers. I told him that I would run take care of them while he took his shower and dressed for bed. That seemed to satisfy him, so off I went to the church office to print up the fliers.
> While there in the office, I happened to glance over at the somewhat extensive library my father had amassed over the years. As I scanned over the titles, I noticed something that had never hit home to me before, although I had seen those books thousands of times. They weren’t just books on Christianity. Father had books on numerous mythologies from what I could see.
I even saw a book on The Golden Bough. I took it out and flipped through the pages. It wasn’t the work itself, from what I understood. It was a commentary from a ‘Christian’ perspective, of course. There were books on the ancient Egyptians, on their gods, and Dad even had one that focused on Isis. I grabbed it off the shelf and glanced through it. And low and behold, if I didn’t come across a paragraph where it spoke of baptism. The girls had told me the truth! Baptism did not originate with Christianity!
I stuck the book back in its allotted slot. My mind was reeling now. I knew that most of the books Dad had would be influenced by Christian thinking. I needed to go to the library to do my research. There I should be able to find books written by folks with more, unbiased minds. “Yes!” I told myself. “The next time I had to run to the store, I would stop at the library and see what they had to offer.
By the time I was done with printing up the pamphlets and back to the house, Greg was asleep. Of that, I was thankful. I really wasn’t in any mood to talk to him. What’s more, I was especially not in the mood to have unfulfilled sex.
A week passed before I found the opportunity to visit our local library. Immediately, I went to one of the available terminals and looked up The Golden Bough. They had it okay. From what I could glean, the original work was in two volumes, later in three, and then finally in twelve. “Gee!” I said to myself. “I wonder if they have all twelve?” They did carry all of them, but most were checked out to other folks. There were three volumes available though: Numbers one, four, and five. I knew I wouldn’t have time to read all three before they would be due back. And I thought if I could at least read number one that maybe two would be in when I went back. So, I eagerly checked it out, figuring it was as good a start as any.
Finding a time to read it wasn’t the only problem. Where to hide it, was one as well. I had intentionally taken my larger purse, and was able to stick the book inside. And when Greg was otherwise occupied, I took the book out and slipped it in the bathroom closet behind my feminine products, thinking that Greg probably wouldn’t be looking there. That way, I could hide in the bathroom and read when they were busy working on sermons and such.
It took a while, but I finally managed to get through the book, and was eager to check out another, for I was now fully convinced that the Wiccan girls had told me the truth. It seemed that it was definitely a good possibility that I had been raised on a lie.
I’m not saying that God isn’t real or doesn’t exist. Just saying that what I had been taught wasn’t exactly the truth; that all was very questionable to say the very least. My interest had been thoroughly piqued.
I managed to finish the book in just under the two weeks that I had it for. Anxious to get another soon as I had the opportunity, I took it back. However, I was disappointed. For all the volumes had been checked out. I decided that surely there was something else. I scanned over the titles and came across several interesting books by other authors such as: Archarya S and Robert Graves. And there were some I wasn’t sure of, but decided that I would check them out later, if need be. For then, though, I grabbed The White Goddess by Robert Graves.
I ended up having to renew The White Goddess. There was so much information in it that it made my head spin. But that wasn’t the only thing that was throwing me off kilter. I was blown away from what I had learned and was learning. I could not believe that the public had all this information available to them, but a good majority of the populace either didn’t know it existed, or were afraid to examine.
I was literally in a state of shock.
It must have shown to an extent, for one afternoon after Greg was through going over some plans for the next service with my father, Greg came up behind me while I was cooking dinner.
He put his arms around me from behind. Something he had not done in a while. “You okay?” he asked.
I was surprised that he even asked. “Yeah. Sure,” I turned and faced him. “Why do you ask?”
“You just seem withdrawn lately. You’re not sick, are you?”
I told him I was okay and turned back to stir the spaghetti sauce.
He gently took hold of my wrist and made me turn around and look at him. “Brenda, something is going on with you. What is it?”
I sniggered faintly.
“Something funny?”
He was being really nice, for once. I didn’t want to ruin it. “No. It’s just… Well, I’m not used to you noticing me.”
“What?” Immediately he looked hurt.
I apologized and told him that that hadn’t come out right.
“No! You’re right, Brenda. I haven’t paid much attention to you lately. I’ve been so tied up with everything else.”
“I won’t argue that. But I understand.”
“Do you really? Honestly, I’m not sure I do anymore.”
This surprised me. “Huh? What are you saying?”
“I had a weird dream last night. I dreamed you left me for this really… well… very good-looking blond-headed man.”
“Blond-headed man?” I questioned, suddenly remembering my own dream. “What?”
“It was so real. I woke up in a sweat. I looked over at you, but you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to disturb you. I have to admit, though, that it did unglue me.” He pulled me close and kissed the crown of my head. “I love you, Brenda! I don’t want to ever lose you.”
Now I was thrown for another loop. Just when I was thinking I was going to end up bailing out on my family the way Mom did, Greg had to go throw his monkey wrench into the works.
I looked up at him as sweetly and convincingly as I could, and said, “I have no plans to go anywhere, Greg.” I actually meant it at that moment.
He pulled back, locking his eyes on mine. “You’re absolutely sure?”
“There’s no one but you, Greg. But I will be honest, sometimes I feel like I’m just a tool for you and Daddy to use… running all the errands, doing all the cooking, backing you and Daddy up all the time on basically everything. I have to ask myself, who is going to back me up?”
“I will! I’m your husband! I realize that I have been so caught up in the church that I have neglected you. For that, I am genuinely sorry. But that’s all going to change right now. I promise!”
At that moment, I began to feel guilty for what I had been doing the past few weeks. And my heart once more went out to my husband. He did love me. It was there in his eyes. He kissed me ever so tenderly and when he pulled away, he took the spoon and placed it aside. “The sauce has to cook for a while, doesn’t it?”
I bobbed my head yes.
His eyes brightened. “Dad’s on the phone with some other pastor. They’re arguing over dogma, believe it or not.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” A familiar glint came to his eyes. One I hadn’t seen in a while. “Our dinner can wait. Let’s go have some ‘us’ time for a few minutes. Want to?”
I was a bit surprised, but right now he was being the man I had fallen in love with. “Yes!” I emphasized with a nod.
He scooped me up in his arms and carried me to our bedroom. He then made love to me in the most considerate and gentle fashion. It was even more wonderful than had been on our honeymoon. Afterwards, we lay in one another’s arms for a while, that is until we heard Dad calling to us from the kitchen.
Greg laughed, and I giggled.
He jumped out of bed, opened our bedroom door and told Dad that we’d be out in a few minutes. Then he grabbed my hand and we took a quick shower together.
When done, Greg dressed and ran on out to see Dad. I, of course, took a little longer. I
put my dark brown hair up in a bun since it was wet. Five minutes later, I was heating the water for the spaghetti.