Metal Meredith

When Morals Clash

Everyone told me how hard parenting was. I knew it would be, and Phil and I didn’t kid ourselves. We have made it through big boo-boos, sicknesses and irrational 2 year old behavior. But this week, this week was one of my greatest feats yet.

As most of you know, Vivienne attends a Presbyterian Preschool. I chose this school not because of its Christian background, but because of the director, the teachers and reputation. When I met the director, I felt welcome, accepted and safe. It was a very good feeling when I realized that it was close by, in our budget and Vivienne’s friend Sam was going to be there, too!

Phil and I always had reservations about it being a Christian based school, as neither one of us can be classified as such. However, knowing that we want Vivienne to grow up well versed in her choices when it comes to beliefs, we agreed that it couldn’t hurt. My mom likes to remind me that I went to a Methodist Preschool for many years as well. Last week she even dared to utter, “You sang Happy Birthday to Jesus and you turned out fine”. You heard it here first, folks.

With Christmas right around the corner, I realized that the time of cakes for Jesus was coming closer. Phil and I did a lot of cringing and fake smiling while Vivienne serenaded us with Happy Birthday Jesus. We would never think of discouraging her singing, since she loves it and it brings her much joy. Her teachers have told me on several occasions how much she likes “God is Good Time” every week with Pastor Greg on guitar. In truth, we love when she comes home with a new song for us!

This past week I had one of those days that I was never expecting. I realized that I had to attend the Christmas play where we would be singing Happy Birthday to Jesus and second, that I had to bring a wrapped gift for my child to put next to the baby Jesus for the Crisis Pregnancy Center.

I read and re-read the invitation. I tried to find the place where I could opt out. I tried to rationalize which part I could exclude my child from. I told Phil what was expected and found myself getting emotional. When I started to dissect it, I learned something about myself; I was more concerned with Vivienne being able to have this performance experience than feeling comfortable. Phil and I will be there tomorrow with bells on.

However, in dealing with my feelings on the pregnancy center, I was forced to really take a look at my beliefs and research whether or not I could donate in good conscious, or needed to suck it up and make my child feel like she fit in.

You see, there are two things in life that I deem a human right, not a political right. The first being what you do to your own body and the second being who you love. I called a good friend who researched the Center to give me an idea of where they fall on the question of choice. They failed. In my mind, giving a gift to this center, a center that encourages women to make their idea of the ‘right’ choice is no different from giving to an organization that tried to ‘fix’ homosexuals. It is not political, it is moral.

How does this affect Vivienne? Hopefully, it won’t. She is still too young to remember this when she gets older. She won’t know the headaches I gave myself this week mulling over my choices and if this was really a battle worth fighting. Was this something worth not just sucking it up and donating a gift? Would it scar her for life not walking up with her class and putting that gift next to the manger? Let us hope not.

We will be going to the play. We will sit and cheer our child on, even if it is to sing Happy Birthday to Jesus. We will smile, be polite and try not to look like we are as uncomfortable as we feel when all the other kids take up their presents and we stay put in our pew.

Then when all this passes, I will hope that even if some of the nice Preschool staff read this entry, they will respect that I chose to not make a big deal of this rather than cause a commotion. Vivienne loves it there, loves the people and is learning so much. I hate that I can’t just turn the other cheek. I simply can’t apologize for my convictions. At the very least, they will be relieved to hear that the “President Poopyhead” shirt will never rear its ugly head on her little body, much less in school.

Happy Holidays and all that stuff!
Meredith

PS. Notice, hair has been fixed.