Teaching Religion My Way

ReligionWe go to church. Sometimes. Our church isn’t traditional; there are no shiny pews to slide down or hymn books to flip through. There is a coffee bar in the lobby and “jeans are fine” policy, the latter of which is actually considered fancy dress by two boys who live in athletic wear. I was raised to believe that the act of going to church and dropping money onto a gold plate doesn’t count for anything if you don’t live your life the right way outside its walls. I was raised that sitting in church and daydreaming about all of the things that you wish you were doing doesn’t make you a good Christian because you simply showed up. I was raised to believe that God doesn’t take attendance on Sunday mornings, that he’s much more interested in how I spend my time when the eyes of church goers aren’t looking. I was raised with one simple lesson – one rule for how to live a spiritual life. Be a good person.

Ask someone to define religion, and you’ll get a variety of answers, some quoting scripture and others focusing on the beauty of nature and hopes for what awaits us in an afterlife. I have walked into my oldest son’s room to find him engrossed in stories from his children’s Bible, its tales reading like a great adventure book that he is anxious to discuss. In my house, we don’t talk about religion specifically – we talk about God, living a good life, and what we believe heaven might look like for the beta fish that we just discovered floating belly-up. Because children are literal little beings, I try to invoke lessons in easy-to-understand and meaningful ways. If they can see it, they can understand it, which is why I focus on raising good people and let the rest fall into place.

Because I believe we teach more by action than by words, my family packs care packages to hand out to homeless men and women. Gallon-sized Ziploc bags include granola bars, raisins, toothbrushes, Kleenex, band aids, and other small items to offer a helping hand to those in need. My boys write little notes to include, and we talk about how their message of “Jesus Loves You” might be just the perfect thing for someone to hear that day. And, once a week, I participate in a reading program for at-risk youth. Although my boys can’t attend, they know that I go and we talk about our moral obligation to help others and the importance of volunteering our time. And we often talk about the most basic rule – the golden one that so many adults forget along life’s way – be nice and a friend to everyone.

As they age, my boys will ask more questions about religion, many of which I won’t be able to answer with any degree of certainty. I can tell them what I believe, what I hope to be the secret to God’s plan for all of us, but I’ll admit that I really don’t know. A potpourri of faith, hope, and love is the cornerstone of my religious beliefs, and I think it’s OK if I don’t go to church every Sunday. As adults, perhaps they’ll agree with me, and maybe they won’t. I hope I raise them to figure it out for themselves.

And, as I watch my boys approach the world with a yet untainted view of everything that it is and everything that it could be, I realize that maybe they already have the answers. As you watch children love blindly, judge no one, and live kindly, one can’t help but think that they already live as God wishes everyone would.

tiffanyk
Tiffany spends her days trying to act like she’s organized. Behind the scenes, she’s usually practicing yoga breathing to curb the panic over throwing too many figurative balls in the air. She’s a lawyer, freelance writer, published author and, most importantly, a mom to two hilarious, creative, and spunky little boys – seven-year-old Max, and five-year-old Finn. Realizing years ago that writing allows her to find the humor in almost any situation, Tiffany writes whenever the opportunity allows and can often be found on the second floor of her favorite coffee shop pounding on her laptop after consuming her weight in vanilla lattes. Tiffany has been a regular contributing writer to local magazines, including M Magazine, 435, and North Magazine, and achieved a lifelong dream of becoming a published author with the 2013 release of her first novel, “Six Weeks in Petrograd.” Tiffany and her husband, Alan, can be found around Parkville trying to corral their two crazy boys and an equally crazy pound puppy named Maddie Lou. You can learn about her current novel (and her second novel in the works) at www.tiffanykilloren.com or drop by her Tiffany W. Killoren, Writer page on Facebook.

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