I feel like I need to start this post with the following declaration:
I have no skin in this game.
I’m Catholic.
I attended private Catholic school for a few years, but mostly I was enrolled in public schools. We didn’t have after school clubs for Catholics in public school. We had CCD at our church. CCD was like Sunday School for Protestants except more lectures and tests and less macaroni crafts and scripture bingo.
I don’t think there were enough non-Latino Catholics in my Texas Public School to form a club. It’d just be me and another kid, who, we’d soon come to figure out, was in the wrong room expecting a meeting of the Dungeons and Dragons Club. That’d explain the cloak.
Although, a cloak at a Catholic Students of Texas Public School meeting wouldn’t look too out of place. Not how I picture it, anyway.
At my public school, if you weren’t Baptist, you were a Satanist. KIDDING. But I did like to play up all the mysteries surrounding Catholicism.
Oh, yeah. We drink wine all the time. In church, after church. Hell, our priest would pass out cigarettes at our final prayer.
Oh my God! Fingers point at me. She admitted it! She totally admitted they get drunk at their church!
So, when there was an after school activity or some kind of retreat on the weekends, or perhaps, a ski trip on a spring break or two, hosted by the First Baptist Church of Texas, I’d be one of the first to sign up. Those kids were my friends and I wanted to hang with them and ski. I wanted to go to the movie nights and the parties. My church didn’t have a youth group that planned events like these. Or maybe they did and I couldn’t read enough Spanish to cobble together the details.
Come to Jesus
I also got a lot of attention. I was the Catholic girl who needed to be saved. Okay, so I’m being a little dramatic. Ninety-nine percent of the Baptist kids were just like me looking for fun and also getting to stay out a little later because it was a church event. And, also the skiing.
But there was always that one kid who pulled me aside at these things and asked me if I had truly accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior.
“Um, sure.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Really??”
“YES.”
“When?”
“What?”
“When did you do it?”
“Accept the Lord?”
“Yes. When? How? What did you say? Because there’s something very specific I need to hear from you so that I can know, in your heart, you’re a Christian.”
I had to figure out what that specific thing was so I could get back to the pizza before all that was left was supreme (blech).
So, I had to learn the language and it didn’t take long to come up with a little speech. This little speech is called a testimony, in case you didn’t know. At these events, sometimes you were asked to give your testimony, so you had better have one ready unless you just loved supreme pizza. And water, because all the cokes would be gone by the time you’ve convinced your little Bible Buddy that you’re a Christian.
Now, there’s not a doubt in my mind where I stand, Jesus-wise. With a little luck, I’ll even die in a state of grace.
This is all part of growing up, folks. I’m not traumatized. I’m not a devil-worshipper. I’m still Catholic. I still loves the Lord.
When did this all become a ridiculous battle? Do we not have other shit to worry about? Like World War III? Like, Donald Trump? Like, Hilary Clinton? Like how to retire? Like how to be a good neighbor? Like where to buy cute ski clothes on sale before the First Baptist Youth Group Spring Ski Trip?
There is actually an After School Satan Club. Google it. I’m not making it up.
Satan. Not satin. Because at first, I thought, “What a major yawn-fest. What 12-year old is interested in textiles? Although, I do like the idea of sending The Boy to some meetings and procuring us some satin pillow cases…nice.”
The Satan Club is a confrontational effort to infuse the children with, “logic,” and “reasoning,” because when you have a child in elementary school, that’s top of mind. Screw you, Tooth Fairy and Santa, because of all the logic and reasoning. Now go to work, child, and pick up your paycheck. Make sure you sign up for birth control coverage.
There’s Good News?
On the opposite side of this crazy coin, and pretty much what set the Satan Clubbers to thinking, is The Good News Club. If you take the First Baptist Church of Texas Youth Group and gave them some meth and a bunch of clocks and VCRs to take apart and put back together, then you’d have The Good News Club.
Now, I don’t know any of the following from personal experience. I get my information from reputable websites like afterschoolsatanclubdotcom and satanhatesthegoodnewsclubdotcom. So, I’ll pass what I’ve learned in my thirty minutes of research to you.
Instead of one Bible Buddy cornering you and asking you for your testimony before you may proceedeth to thine table of the pizza, you would have like the whole club blocking your entree. The crafts are collages of the End Times using mixed media of pasta and glitter glue. Scripture bingo is made entirely of Revelations and any passages related to the following: sin, blood, wrath, death, hell, sin, punishment and obedience.
Okay, I don’t mind punishment and obedience. I preach that one at home with my own hell references.
I’m just floored.
Look, clearly, I’m on the God side of this equation. I happily live under the belief He loves us all, even the Satan Club. But I can also see Him giving some major side-eye to The Good News Club.
Satan Clubbers? We expected that sort of behavior from you.
The Good News Club? Just stop before He turns the car around.
If The Boy waves a flyer at me and tells me the After School Satan Club is coming to his school, I’ll tell him to ignore them because they sound like a bunch of fun sponges. Unless they host a ski trip at spring break. Sure, they’ll poke all kinds of holes in our Easter Bunny story and they’ll explain how rainbows are only meteorological phenomenon, but how else will he get to ski Durango for under $150.00 a day?
You can’t.
