St. Valentine's Day, blah-blah-blah. Yes, I made my wife a card and gave it to her. She made me one, too. It was all very sweet. We have a good love.
I'm reminded, however, of this time when I attended one of the family night gatherings held by my wife's church. Before I stopped going to these--which is when they became less about family and more about jebus--the groups would tackle a family issue, like how to handle it when your child is fresh.
On this particular night, a woman who was a leader of the group said with a straight face that God loved our children more than we did. Indeed, if I remember the moment correctly, this tidbit was something of an afterthought to a different point she was making.
I was completely knocked over by this. This woman was actually asserting that God loved my babies more than I did. More astounding: I don't think anyone in the room except me thought that she had said something profoundly distasteful and repulsive.
To this day, I am utterly amazed that I did not stand and blurt out to her "Like fuck he does!" Yeah, he loves them so much, except when bad things happen to them, which is sad but actually part of a greater plan, except the fucking plan not only makes no sense but rather has the distinct appearance of being totally fucking random. And of course, if you don't love him back in the proper way, you'll fucking burn in hell for all eternity.
This was one of those watershed moments for me. I realized once again that religion and reality were at odds, and it dawned on me quite clearly that some differences might be irreconcilable. In the years to come, I would learn that MY religion too contradicted the messy facts of daily living.