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When I was eleven or twelve years old, I lived in a tiny mountain town called Valemount. My family was close friends with several Jehovah's Witness families in the area. I remember how one day, we went to visit the Zurowskis. They had two kids close to the same age as my sister and me: Mickey and Rhonda.
Rhonda was about six years old, and her favourite game was lifting her skirt to show her "pee pee." Mickey liked to play catch. My sister and I liked playing lets-pretend games.
One day, while our parents talked in the Zurowski's kitchen, we kids played in the living room. We were pretty bored, so we turned on the television. Hockey Night in Canada was just starting, and the theme music filled the room. None of us particularly liked hockey, but we decided we would have some fun with it, and we all started pretending to be hockey players.
I somehow got it in my head to pretend to be Jesus, the goalie, while the game took place in a Catholic cathedral. While Mickey pretended to be a priest taking a slapshot at the altar/goal, (He shoots, he misses!), I, being Jesus, saved, of course.
So I started chanting something silly about Jesus saving, and Hockey Night in the Catholic Church, all while the other kids hummed the theme song at full volume. We were having a great time, but then the parents stormed in.
Dad heard the blasphemy issuing from my lips and proceeded to give me a royal beating, reefing on me all while chastising me in righteous indignation. I screamed and cried, and was completely filled with remorse. I'd never meant to hurt Jesus or God. I was so sorry--truly sorry--and I pleaded with Jehovah and Jesus for forgiveness, all while Dad slapped the bejeezus out of me and the other kids stared in shocked, morbid curiosity.
When I got home, I cried myself to sleep, muffling the sobs with my pillow so I couldn't be heard. I couldn't believe how I'd hurt Jesus and Jehovah.
Perhaps Hockey Night in Canada was hurt, too, because they lost a potential viewer due to fear of incipient sacrilege. How was I to know that I'd go on to discover Jesus wasn't a hockey player, but a goth?
Rhonda was about six years old, and her favourite game was lifting her skirt to show her "pee pee." Mickey liked to play catch. My sister and I liked playing lets-pretend games.
One day, while our parents talked in the Zurowski's kitchen, we kids played in the living room. We were pretty bored, so we turned on the television. Hockey Night in Canada was just starting, and the theme music filled the room. None of us particularly liked hockey, but we decided we would have some fun with it, and we all started pretending to be hockey players.
I somehow got it in my head to pretend to be Jesus, the goalie, while the game took place in a Catholic cathedral. While Mickey pretended to be a priest taking a slapshot at the altar/goal, (He shoots, he misses!), I, being Jesus, saved, of course.
So I started chanting something silly about Jesus saving, and Hockey Night in the Catholic Church, all while the other kids hummed the theme song at full volume. We were having a great time, but then the parents stormed in.
Dad heard the blasphemy issuing from my lips and proceeded to give me a royal beating, reefing on me all while chastising me in righteous indignation. I screamed and cried, and was completely filled with remorse. I'd never meant to hurt Jesus or God. I was so sorry--truly sorry--and I pleaded with Jehovah and Jesus for forgiveness, all while Dad slapped the bejeezus out of me and the other kids stared in shocked, morbid curiosity.
When I got home, I cried myself to sleep, muffling the sobs with my pillow so I couldn't be heard. I couldn't believe how I'd hurt Jesus and Jehovah.
Perhaps Hockey Night in Canada was hurt, too, because they lost a potential viewer due to fear of incipient sacrilege. How was I to know that I'd go on to discover Jesus wasn't a hockey player, but a goth?
