Page 26 - Contrast1958Winterv2n1

ME AND THE MAKER

Mary Harrison

Until I was fourteen years old I had no anxieties concerning my
religion. This, I believe was natural. Any child spending his time
worrying about his faith or church affairs would doubtlessly be looked
upon as a genius or an "Odd-ball," depending on his cultural back-
ground.

In my pre-adolescence, God was a happy cross between Santa
Claus and Jesus. He was a "jolly good fellow" with a kind sense of
humor. He sat on an overstuffed white cloud, surrounded by well-fed
angels, and listened to everybody on the earth below. He had a wife,
Mary, and two sons, Jesus and the Holy Ghost. The latter was sickly
and a definite sissy, and was never seen by anyone except the immedi-
ate family. God was always busy listening so he could hear anyone's
prayers, and sort them into two piles labeled "To Be Answered" and
"Ridiculous." Mother had carefully explained that God listens to
everyone but never answers ridiculous requests. I only worried about
God's anger once. That was the time when my younger brother put
a few cards from a game concerned with horse-racing and money into
the collection plate. I recall Father wondering how a card with in-
structions to place "$50 on 'Rosey' in the third" would be taken by
our minister. I thought for a while, and decided that since the cards
would be intercepted by the Reverend before they reached God, no
harm would be done. What God didn't know wouldn't hurt Him.
Aside from saying grace at dinner and a few memorized bed-time
prayers. which might have been Hindu chants for the attention I
gave them, I had little contact with God, and the fact didn't bother
me at all.

My family and I traveled a good deal since my father was in the
army. When I was thirteen we lived in Turkey, a Moslem country.
There I developed a keen sense of loyalty for my country, and a re-
spect for the ideas and beliefs of others. I remember seeing the devo~t
Turks stopping their work several times a day and bowing on their
knees to Mecca while saying their prayers. My idea of God changed
in that he occasionally wore a turban and smoked a Turkish pipe on
the Turkish religious holidays and Ataturk's birthday. Ataturk was
the Father of Modern Turkey and I thought he was a great man. My

God acted accordingly.
When we returned home I was fourteen and a crucial change

24