there are many things i don't get about life...and here is one them

I know that "God is love," and that "love is made complete among us" when we show love to those around us. (exerps from John via my brand new copy of Bible Promises for Graduates c/o Nana Seay and Gran Gran--thanks!), but what I don't get is how so many people can claim to know God and be good Christians when they do not abide by or even see it as their duty to love the people in the world.

I would call myself some type of atheistic Christian. If that makes sense to you, then you are smarter than me. I know and love God, and the little pieces of Jesus in the people around me, but I am angry with religion and the politics of American Christians. In a lot of different ways, I am a social justice advocate because of the opposition between the way humanity functions and the humble aspirations of humanitarians. For a long time, I wanted to answer the call of God and become an Episcopal priest. Being a lesbian individual, and even before I knew that about myself, being an advocate of the GLBT community, I knew could not live with myself by answering that call. Church politics make me crazy! But the thing that makes me even nuttier is that while I have a degree from an established academic institution, I cannot find an organization within the social justice non-profit sector that will hire me. I could chock this up to the possibility that there are a lot of really caring individuals who already hold these positions that I covet, or that maybe there aren't enough organizations and that perhaps that is the real problem with the world. All of those thoughts aside, the situation at hand is a problematic one. Where is my place, world? I have no idea, but sometimes (and these moment are really really rare) I happen upon my place, even if they are extremely brief.

Tonight, I was working late, the closing shift at the Public Grocery store where I work here in the suburbs of Atlanta. It had been a rough day. Sitting in the sun at a country bumpkin equestrian center (where during the prayer which followed a recorded version of the Star Spangled Banner, the Baptist preacher said, "And Dear God (he said Dear God about thirty times in 3 minutes) don't let us forget about the people at the old folks home" and being forced to watch people ride horses while I baked in the sun had just about taken every ounce of happiness out of my soul. When you add to that a seven hour shift checking out groceries to snot nosed kids and their parents with a warm cheese sandwich my only form of positive reinforcement during a twenty minute dinner break and the gas light coming on in my car on the way to work with only twenty dollars in my bank account (having no idea where the other seventy went that I put in there three days ago) you understand the dilemma I was having with being cheerful. Additionally, polyester is itchy and so was my skin from all that sun from this morning. (ok...I'm bitching a little...I'll get to the point). Basically, I was in a foul mood but attempting to be nice to people because who likes a grouchy grocery store check out girl on a Saturday? (it is Saturday, yea?) I was nearing the end of my shift, I only lacked six more check out lanes to sweep and mop. I was pulled from my job to check out groceries for a very loquacious man. Imagine, someone as talkative as me? That is Bill. Bill is a long time patron of Publix 4077 at the corner of Hwy 9 and Post Rd (Hwy 371) in what is actually Alpharetta, GA (or so I've been told). Bill introduces himself to me by saying, "Hi, *looks at my name tag* Samantha. You must be new because I don't know you." He hands me some of his groceries. I'm trying to remember produce codes and key pad button combinations while answering him, "Oh, well I'm sort of new. How are you tonight, sir?" He looks at me and replies, "No, you're definitely new because like I said, I don't know you." I stopped trying to remember stuff and looked at him. He yells to Fran who is down a couple of lanes from mine, "She's new, right Fran? because I don't know her." Fran says nothing and chuckles to herself in a very Fran-esque way. You see, Fran is an older lady with sweet spectacles and talks to me in broken phrases like my Mummum does with a big smile and pats my arm. She's adorable and I absolutely love her. Plus, I want her glasses, but she can't remember where she bought them. I look back to the man, "Hi," I say holding out my left hand cuz there's drippy watermelon in the right one, "I'm Sam." He shakes my hand with his left hand, "I'm Bill. When did you start?" "A while back," I say, "but I just graduated from college and..." He cuts me off, "oh! what's your degree in?" "Psychology and Women's Studies," I reply. And oh my God! just like that Bill loves me. He goes on this rant that takes up like ninety seconds but should have and could have taken twenty minutes to explain because you see, he's Bill, and I loved him instantly.

Bill is thirty five, a manic-depressive Christian man who believes God is a woman and that most Christians are only Christian when the calendar says it's Sunday. All of this was covered in about three dense sentences, one of which came out as sort of a riddle. I wish I could remember exactly how he said it, but it was eloquent and lovely. Bill is heading towards the door while still talking to me, and my snot nosed manager, who is younger than me and only knows how to begin sentences to me with the phrase, "Samantha, I need you to..." One day I almost filled in the last part with "find your brain? sure, no problem...but I'm gonna need a raise first." I've known him about five days...and I do not like him. Another reason I do not like him...he cut off my conversation with Bill tonight. Bill is awesome. I hope he comes in to the store tomorrow, cuz I really want to finish our conversation or maybe propose to him? Anyway, people...think it over. Right place, right time...in the midst of hell. I just. don't. get it?