Two nights ago, while sorting through old pictures, I found some folded up sheets of paper tucked into a box. I grabbed the stack and unfolded them, figuring it was a poem my sister or I had written for Mother’s Day (there were a lot of Mother’s Day poems in those boxes.)
Instead of a child’s scribbled poem, I was looking at a stack of photocopied Bible pages. I knew what they were right away: death threats I’d received 15 years ago.
The first time I saw them, I was 18. It was just after He Who Must Not Be Named set my bed on fire. (I wasn’t home that night.)
The next time I saw those pages, my father stood in front of our church and projected them onto the overhead screen so our congregation could understand why we were leaving. (It was super fun being a teenager and having my entire church read passages that referred to my breasts and nakedness, let me tell ya.)
People overuse the word “terrified,” but I’m not exaggerating when I say I was terrified the first time I saw them. A confrontation was coming, and I probably wouldn’t survive it. It wasn’t a matter of if he got to me, but when.
What struck me while reading those pages as an adult was how impotent the threats are now. (Yeah. Impotent. I went there.) Because without a group of enablers standing behind him, he’s just one man, and I’m not afraid of just one man.
So, what to do with these pages?
I’m going to do what I always do. I’m going to make wildly inappropriate jokes about them because that’s how I handle things.
“You shall not add to the word that I command you, nor take from it, that you may keep the commandments of the Lord your God that I command you.” (Deuteronomy 4:2) So, uh, whoops? But, otherwise, it totally makes sense to take scriptures that refer to Jerusalem and apply them to an 18-year-old girl. There’s nothing crazy about that at all.
Pastor’s daughters are always dodging paparazzi. It’s super obnoxious. Also, I must be the most unsuccessful prostitute of all time. I was broke back then and I’m broke now. What good does walking around naked do me if I’m not even making some coin? Geez.
More quality parenting advice. If your daughter is a prostitute who isn’t charging for whoring it up and walks around naked for free, you should beat her because that’s just a really stupid business plan.
I feel better. Being immature usually does it for me.
You know, most people can’t say someone ever hated them so much they literally wanted them to die in a fire. So, I’ve got that going for me at least.
If you want to satisfy your morbid curiosity (hey, I know I would) the full pages are below. Again, this is just a small sample of the kinds of things that he left for us to find.