"Here. Take this."
It never failed: any time I had a cold or a flu, or some kind of ill-defined malady, my mom would pour an assortment of small white pills into the palm of my hand. They tasted sweet dissolving on my tongue, so I didn't mind. All of them came from mysteriously labeled dark brown bottles, like something you'd see on the high shelf behind the counter of a nineteenth century apothecary/barber. I vaguely remember her using some strange device in conjunction with the pills; it was made of wood and copper wire and I always got the impression that it somehow helped her determine which pills, and how many of them, I should take.
They never really made me feel better, but what the fuck did I know? I was just a kid. Seeing a timid naturopath once every few years who flinched when he tried to take my blood pressure seemed like a perfectly good substitute for a proper yearly physical. (His temperament and complete inability to commit to any absolute statement, ever, led us to dub him "Dr. Shrug." We used the name so often that I no longer have any recollection of his real one.)
Later in life, I learned more about the little white pills my mom was giving me, exactly what they were made of (lactose) and exactly what they did (nothing). I found it baffling that a woman with a bachelor's degree in chemistry and a master's degree in nutrition could come to the conclusion that, yes! It totally makes sense treat someone who has a disease by giving them a solution of something that causes similar symptoms to that disease, but is completely medically unrelated! Also did I mention it's diluted so many times that basically nothing of the original substance even remains? That makes it even better!
Lots of Christians would reject homeopathic medicine - not because it makes literally zero sense, but because it has ties to New Age healing which is obviously a direct product of SATAN. Most of them will just cringe uncomfortably if someone brings up incense or psychics or tarot cards or gargoyles, but Marguerite Perrin, the infamous "God Warrior" from Trading Spouses and the unlikely muse who led to the creation of this blog, takes it a step further.
(Every time I've run across this video, the husband always reminds me uncomfortably of someone. I just now realized that it's Joe Don Baker.)
When I was little, my mom warned me to stay away from Ouija boards the same way she warned me to stay away from guns. Once she told me that she quit messing around with astrology because "it got too creepy." (Assuming "creepy" means "dumb," then yes. Yes it did.) (Seriously, though. I took Psych 100 at a community college. It was a big class. The teacher asked for a show of hands - who believed that astrology had any kind of merit whatsoever? One girl raised her hand. One girl out of a class of, like, 40. At community college.) (Think about it.)
My dad, to his credit, didn't buy quite as easily into the Jack Chick brand of theology. I think - I'm not sure, but I think - he was sharp enough to realize that kids playing around with fake-ass "mysticism" wasn't an open invitation for SATAN to possess their souls. But how do you draw that line? How do you say, "okay, God's real, but demonic possession? Pffft, that's just silly."
It's a question worth exploring. Which is why I wanted to write this blog.
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She is not a ChristiunnuUUUUUUUUHHH!
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