Hello everyone. I have wanted to share this event with you all for the longest time, and I am finally ready. Oddly enough, I still feel ashamed that this happened to me, although I understand it wasn't my fault. The story begins in the late seventies, and I was about twelve years old.....
I lived in a very small town in the midwest. When I say small town, I mean less than five thousand people, all of whom know each other. We lived one block away from the courthouse square in a quiet neighborhood, and knew all our neighbors, most of which were alot like us, blue collar hard working families.
The one thing that set us apart, was our religion. Christmas was obviously not celebrated at our house. Tricker treating friends knew not to knock on our door. Neighborhood baseball games were interrrupted when six of the players had to "go to the meeting".
I always felt different from everyone else, and I remember how embarrassed I felt to be seen in a dress, arms loaded in books and magazines, trudging to the car with my brothers and sisters amid the jeers of all our friends. I hated it...I dreaded it....
Every Tuesday we had to load up and go to the book study, which took place in an old mans house a few blocks away. For some reason there began a big buzz about a new book that had come out, and we were told over and over to "share" this book with non-believers. Also there were six of us kids, all into the tweens and teen years and it was high time we were "used by Jehovah". The pressure was on!
At some point, an elder came to our house and diagnosed our family disfunction and unhappiness. We needed to "do more". So after an official urging, it was decided that we all knew at least one friend or neighbor to share the good news with, and the elder would get back to us to discuss how it went....
I was told by my step-mother to share the good news with my neighbor, and good friend Jeff. I voiced my concern and embarrassment to both her and the elder, but they said if "you love jehovah, you will find the courage". In other words, his eternal well being was up to me. I was sent the next day (after having been shown by example) to ask my friend for a few minutes of his time, to talk to him. Armed with the new literature, we went into the backyard, to sit in the sunshine and discuss Jehovah..
I was so nervous, and I didnt know where to begin. So I opened up the book and explained how God has a name, Jehovah. And that he loves to hear his name, and doesnt at all appreciate people not using said name. I was limited to a half hour before hand "Keep it short".
So we moved right along to armeggedon, and the details thereof. Jeff took the book from me, and looked deeply at the picture of the apocolypse. Then he ask me, "why are the kids falling into the ground"? So I explained that if you were a witness, this fate would not befall you. How Jehovah had a plan to save the ones who loved him, and other people who are not witnesses would die, it was only right, and obviously anyone with half a brain would realize this concept and convert immeadiatly! I mean, I didn't want our best third baseman falling into the earth!!
Jeff shook his head and said dinner was waiting and he had to go. Then next day, I got called away from our second inning by my mothers angry voice. " WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM"?! So I stood on shaking knees, to explain to my now irrate step mother, that I didnt exactly say anything, that the pictures did the talking, and I had only tried to explain the picture that had horrified my buddy.
My step mother was enraged. Jeffs mom had called to say that we were all full of bullsh*t, and not to be talking religion around her kids, or else thirdbase would be empty!
My stepmother was livid. She slapped me hard across my face, told me I should not have divulged that particular news item so quickly, that I had shamed her and Jehovah, and he would most likely see to it that I was the little girl in the picture when armeggedon arrived.
From that day on, I knew that the Jehovahs witnesses were wrong. I never again spoke about Jehovah, or his plans with anyone. Soon after, it became obvious to the elders that there was a rebel in their midst, and she was better left alone.
I am a big believer in letting the literature speak for itself. It is not "apostate" material, and a picture says a thousand words. It is fodder for thought to Jehovahs witnesses. Dont use outside arguments, make them explain their own theology, using their own material.
Once upon a time, a twelve year old shortstop had to become a minister. This is the true story of her one and only attempt. Thankyou all for listening, I appreciate it very much.