Who Will Save My Soul?

I find a lot of my stories that I tell, the more or less unbelievable or bizarre ones, start out with the phrase, "I was minding my own business when..."

But that's exactly what I was doing. I was minding my own business, tranferring groceries from the cart into my trunk, when I notice this little ole white hair mumbling to herself. She walked towards me, headed back to her car, and sort of hesitated. I watched her from the corner of my eye.

She was obviously of the church lady variety. She had her white hair done up in a tight bun, and she was wearing a skirt. There are several churches around here that dictate their women dress this way.

I thought maybe she was lingering for a moment to take my cart since she was heading into the store.

"Hello," she said, in an eerie tone. It wasn't in a pleasant, friendly old lady sort of tone.

I replied hi, but if translated, it might have sounded like, "What exactly are you doing because you're making me slightly nervous."

"I have something for you. I thought you might like reading about this lovely young girl," she said and handed me a pamphlet of some sort.

At first glance, it didn't appear as though it was religious paraphanelia. I thought it might be some sort of hand-out for an ailing child. I thanked her as she scurried away. I looked at the back, and sure enough, it was religious "save your soul" sort of stuff.

I opened it up, and obviously, I was supposed to read this young girl's story, and by young, I'm talking 3ish or so. Then I saw the scripture, and the instructions on how to ask Jesus to come into my heart.

Risking sounding totally irreverent, crap like this pisses me off.

I'm used to people coming to the door occasionally trying to peddle their beliefs door-to-door. I understand it's the way Jehovah's Witnesses do their thing. I've read about their period of time spent going door-to-door to make everyone their special Jesus offer. (Salesman! Argh! - courtesy of Pee-Wee's Playhouse). While I don't subscribe to their beliefs, I give them credit for having so much faith because it can't be a grand time to go out and bother people at home. Most of which see the Jehovah's coming, and they slam the door just like Pee-Wee.

What really pisses me off is that I must have looked like I needed saving. She made a concerted effort to go back to her car and get me the hand-out. Was it my short shorts with studding? Was it my black T-shirt with a gothic cross and silver sparklies on it? Was it my sandals with grommets? Hmm, maybe it was my eyeliner and make-up. Could it have been my wide ankle bracelet?

At any rate, I decided I'd stay a sinner, and I wasn't going to read it. Briefly, I enterained the notion to go put it under the wiperblade on her car. But I thought nah, that really wouldn't be nice. Effective conveying how I felt about having it pushed on me, but not real nice.

I left it under the fold down flap on the seat of my cart as I returned it to the corral.

What was that thing about not judging? For some reason, I felt incredibly judged. I watched her walk into the store, passing several other customers. She didn't have a fistful of papers to hand out to others with her. So what was the deal?

It was the same church that drove around several weeks ago on a Sat. morning. I received a text from my friend who lives down the road that said, "Burgundy van, full of church ladies, do not answer the door."

And you know what? I didn't answer the door because I feel it's my choice to not listen to their witnessing. Somehow, I felt not only judged, but slightly deceived as well. "Read about this young girl's story," she said. It was a ploy. I certainly wouldn't have said, "no thanks," after looking at the photo of the adorable girl.

Maybe the next person who found the pamphlet in the cart needing some saving.