I was watching Dateline tonight and it was a story about a minister who murdered two of his wives. It jolted a memory. A conviction stemmed from years ago. I don't even remember when I made that decision but I did swear that I would NEVER marry a minister. I was raised by a minister. I see what goes on in the church and I don't like it.

The church attracts a certain kind and they are not always good. My father in my assessment became a minister because there really was nothing else he could have become. He didn't have the education nor skills required to survive in the real world. The church gives him a refuge. He graduated from the synagogue. I know very little about his earlier job posting but by the time I came along, he only goes to places that no other minister wants to go. So much for being a servant of God. Just about every minister that I know, fought for the big churches. My father was not that humble. He didn't willingly take on the small abandoned churches to minister. He had no choice. No one else wanted him.

I have little recollection of the church where we live when I was born. We left there when I was about four or five. I did return to the church years later. It wasn't quite how I remembered it but I did walk along the pew. The pew that I hung on to, row by row when I first learn to ride the bike. The second church left the biggest impression on me. It was the place I would consider as the home I grew up in. It is the place that appear in my dream every once in awhile. I returned to that church too years later. I walked into the room where I used to sleep. The pictures we hung up when we were little were still where we left it. The cabinet where we store our stuff was still there. The table where we did our homework was pushed to the side of the wall. The "big" bathroom didn't look so big anymore. The very bathroom where my 2nd brother hosed me down because I refused to let him give me a bath when my parents were away. That was the place I have the most memories. Good and bad. Our departure from that church was one of great disgrace. My father was caught embezzling money. For years, I could not wrap my mind around it. I didn't think that my parents were capable of such things. Besides, we were so poor. I had to work so hard. The math did not add up. The incident shattered my world. I spent years after that, just curled up in bed, crying to sleep. Only to wake up and go to school like any happy teenager. I didn't miss a beat and I continue to get good grades.

That was my world for being raised in a church. I don't go to church these days but I still tune in to TV sermon periodically. I do want to raise my son in the Christian faith but I'm really not trying that hard to instill the "Christian" value. But I still talk to God. I still pray. But if I'm not married, I still won't settle for a minister.