I was the last kid in my age group to get rid of short pants and allowed to quit Sunday School, by my mother. In Kindersley, the prairie town we lived in. I had to wear short pants in the summer and what was called breecks in the winter. I believed that my secular and spiritual bondage had interfered with my coming of age and failure to thrive, though it wouldn't exactly have been put in those words. I just wanted long pants and to avoid Sunday School and the horrible girls. The only other boy was my younger brother so that didn't count.
I argued that since I had agreed to confirmation, I might give God and Jesus a try one day. I stressed might. I could usefully argue my case with her since my father was not going to church at that time. She also gave up on the short pants too because my knees were always dirty and hardly ever got washed. When I think of it now, I would have grieved if my children would have become too cool too soon in life and I thank God for my mother.
Finally baseball Sunday morning, ball glove and long pants. So lucky at the coming of age. It took me longer to realize it wasn't me ; it was mini-me.; it was good then and it's good now. My mother was right all along. I finally gave lucky Jesus a chance and I still get to wear long pants.
I argued that since I had agreed to confirmation, I might give God and Jesus a try one day. I stressed might. I could usefully argue my case with her since my father was not going to church at that time. She also gave up on the short pants too because my knees were always dirty and hardly ever got washed. When I think of it now, I would have grieved if my children would have become too cool too soon in life and I thank God for my mother.
Finally baseball Sunday morning, ball glove and long pants. So lucky at the coming of age. It took me longer to realize it wasn't me ; it was mini-me.; it was good then and it's good now. My mother was right all along. I finally gave lucky Jesus a chance and I still get to wear long pants.
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