I have a female massage therapist through my chiropractor who is gifted with what you could call "man hands." Her name is Berta. I realized she was gifted at the first visit. Her preferred lubricant on bare skin is just oil. She skips the fragrance, that's for wimps. She'd also prefer for you to strip as much as possible so she can slide her oiled hands over your aches and pains.
I teased her that she could be the government's secret weapon. One touch
with her man hands and she could convince any person to confess. It
feels like you're being deboned and then tenderized. I'm pretty sure
after her treatments, I'm more delicious than when I walked in.
Her Spanish is better than her English, so we usually communicate in
Spanish, which is fine by me. My mother always insisted growing up that
we speak two languages - even though many people thought this was bad
at the time. Some people still do. But this is about Berta...
Today started like any other day. But for some reason,
with Easter rolling around, she decided to invite me to a shindig at her
church which explains the whole communion thing. I told her I think I
get it and asked her if she was Catholic. That's when she dropped her
bomb. "No, I'm Jehovah's Witness."
Whoa! Stop the
presses! She can't celebrate her birthday because it's vain. She can't
sing the National Anthem because it's wrong to swear allegiance to
anyone but God. She doesn't celebrate Christmas or Easter. But her
religion will allow her slide her oiled hands over my half-naked body. Am I
the only one who finds humor and irony in this? It's also a bit sad.
I taught high school for a short time, one of my best boy singers got
pulled out of my choir by his parents. His parents didn't want him to
sing anything about Easter, Christmas, or the National Anthem because they didn't believe in it. I was
devastated and having an awful time of teaching choir that year. This
boy loved my class and was very respectful. I never had any idea that
choir could be so problematic and divisive. But it wasn't the first time. And it
won't be the last.
I thought about telling Berta that
she shouldn't say anything to anyone else about this because she might
lose her job. But I'm pretty sure that she would see it as suffering
for the cause of Christ, so I decided to let her decide her own fate. I
decided not to say anything about it. Maybe she shared with me because
I speak Spanish and no one else will be invited to the Kingdom Hall
because she can't communicate with them as well.
At what point or how to you say, "Hey sister, we may not agree, but don't worry
about me cause I'm already saved." I just don't think I will ever feel
that God is convicting me to give up the National Anthem or my
birthday, or Christmas, or Easter. I really don't put much effort into
any of these things, but I don't feel convicted about them either. (OK wait, I do put some effort into singing the National Anthem - and I do it well.)
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