Jelly Beans for Jesus.

This story has been waiting to be written for quite some time now. Each time I would think about writing it, My mind would shy away from the thought simply because I wasn't ready to share it. Not yet.

This story begins from my childhood.

Where a little girl is raised in a Baptist church surrounded by yellow grass and blue-grey gravel.
As a child, I don't believe that we went to church regularly. We were "Holiday Hallelujahs."
Which means, we only attended every holiday.

 I never quite felt comfortable there, I felt that we were imposters. And when our Pastor would speak about being faithful and not ONLY coming on holidays, I thought he was speaking to me and I would cringe and avert my eyes.

Never the less, as far back as I can remember...I loved Jesus and I knew that we were supposed to listen to what the bible told us.

Every Easter I would wake up with immense joy at the powdery footprints surrounding my Easter Basket.
And inevitably,  after Church service, that joy soon slid into guilt about receiving candy and celebrating after everything that Jesus went through.

So, as a child (and with a face full of tears and snot) I would sneak outside and bury Jelly Beans for Jesus.

They were always the white ones.
I was pretty sure that Jesus's favorite color was white, since he was always wearing it in the pictures, also.... I hated the white Jelly Beans and I didn't think he would mind.

The burying of Jellybeans was planned around my very large family. When my dad was with the horses, my sisters in their room and my brother off to goodness knows where, I would race outside with my sugary offering clutched in my fist.

I buried the beans with tears running down my face and a whispered "I'm so sorry Jesus"

He always listened and accepted my Jellybean banquet. (It at least pacified my guilt and I could move forward with my chocolate bunny addictions.)

After my parents divorced, I believe that my father was trying to find Jesus himself. My sister and I attended new churches with him... all kinds of new churches. 7th Day Adventist, Episcopalian , and Catholic to name a few.

We always felt weird.

We always felt like outsiders in our new classrooms and wearing our new dresses and I was confused.
Isn't Jesus in every church?

As a teenager, I wondered if it was new people that my father was looking for.
As an adult I believe it was acceptance.

After I had my son I started to read the Bible.
Even at 17 the miracle of him shook me to the core. Look at this beautiful boy that God made.
Shane enchanted me and scared the fuck out of me at the same time.

Soon enough I put the bible down for band aids and tending skinned knees.


When Shane was around 5 years old I sat with my then husband outside under our giant pecan tree. It was a tradition with us to enjoy the evening together and talk about our days.
Mommy/Daddy time, we called it.

My head was tipped back against the wicker seat and I looked up at the stars peeking through the tree. It was so beautiful that it brought back a memory...

As a child my father would take us out on nights for a walk.

We would go all over the subdivision, him with his gnarled manzenita walking stick and us with our bare feet. 

We would find a quiet cul-de-sac and lay down to stare at the stars.
Sometimes we would lay there for hours it seemed and my dad would point out the constellations and teach us about the stars. "Look at the beautiful night that God made you." He would say and I would be filled with pleasure over the gift that spread out above me.

......That night, I sat with my husband and looked up at the stars. And while it was nowhere near as beautiful as the clear and clean night sky of Don Pedro, It still marveled me.

"Isn't it sad that as adults we always forget to look up?" I murmured to Chris.

"Mmmm" he agreed looking up at the sky next to me.

I smiled "Look at the beautiful night that God made you." I leaned over whispered to my husband, smiling at the memory of childhood.

He took a drag off of his cigarette and then he snorted.

My head lifted off of the seat and my eyes skinnied up. "Did you just SNORT at God?"

"Mmmhmmm"

I sat up "Mmmhmmm...and WHYYYY did you just snort at God?"

"Because I don't believe in God." he shrugged exhaling smoke from his nose.

"AH!" I screeched and jumped up. "YES YOU DO!" I pointed to him.

"No I don't." He calmly stated reclining back in his chair.

"Something is HAAAAPPENING." I started to pace

"Yes. You're freaking out." he nodded

"no.No. NO! There is absolutely NO way that you DONT believe in God. I would have known."

"It has never come up."

"Uh HELLOOOOOO! We have gone to church!"

"No. YOU and Shane have gone to church."

I gasped "Oh no, you know what?"

"What?"

"I rebuke you." I growled at him

"You CANNOT rebuke me. I am your husband."

"I take it back."

He laughed and wrapped his arms around my pregnant stomach "There are no takesey-backsies with marriage."

I slapped at his hands "Don't."

"Are you serious right now?" his chuckled turned to belly laughs and my eyes skinnied up so far, I could barely see.

"If you don't believe in God, what precisely DO you believe in?" I asked him through gritted teeth.

He finished laughing, wiped his eyes and shrugged "Evolution"

"No." I gasped

"Yes." He nodded

'YOU believe that we are all evolved from monkeeeeeeeeys?" I screeched at him.

"Well. Honey, YOU believe that a mystical being built man from some dust and I don't judge YOUR thought process." And he began to explain his theories which, even 15 years later I cannot remember.

I just gaped at him. "You lied to my dad. My dad never would have let me marry you if you said you did not believe in God. He would have anointed you with oil and baptized YOU!"

He snorted "Your dad also thinks that I am a republican, remember? YOU made me lie about THAT."

"AUGGGHHHH! If my father knew you were a democrat he would have SHOT you! I was saving your LIFE!"

He chuckled.

I did not.

I spent the following hour as a 22 year old trying to PROVE Gods existence to my 31 year old husband, but at the time he just shut it down. Each and every piece of evidence that I provided him, he had a scientific belief to fire back at me.

The argument ended with "I am never speaking to you again." And a "Okay I believe in God, are you happy now?" to which I was not.


When I turned 30 my faith fell. I questioned everything as my life spiraled downwards.
I went from a Stay at home mom to a full time working, single mom who went to school at night.

My life went from Flourishing to floundering.

I shut down the world around me and focused on my small family.
Sometimes waking my kids up at 5:00 to go out to breakfast with me before work and school that night.

I held tightly to them, and as I did I let go of everything else.

Every belief that I had as a child went away as I discovered how to be ....Me.

At 30, I met Deanna, a woman so cloaked in the belief of God, she would sing "Praise Jesus!" when something good happened. Or bad.

She would tell me  "I know you do not love Jesus, but Jesus loves you!"  And I would roll my eyes at her and thank her and tell her she was crazy.

There was no judgment in her whatsoever. Whether I believed in Jesus or not.

I would crack jokes  "I keep trying to find Jesus Deanna, but he is hiding from me."

She just smiled and shook her head and told me "When you are ready to see him Beanie, he is right next to you."

I'd shake my head and walk away.

It is funny how traditions still remained with me, even when I claimed unbelief.
My children and I still clasped hands and bowed heads at dinnertime.

My Praying man painting always hung above our dinner table.

And while I joked about Jesus, I always thanked God for everything and every single year, I buried Jelly beans for Jesus.

In the spring of 2012 I started working at Buhach Preschool and I noticed something strange. Something intriguing.

You see my heart is a teacher, but my brain is a writer.
I love asking questions.
I love doing research and finding out the reasoning behind the human emotion.
I don't just love it, but at times it keeps me awake at night, until I spill my findings onto parchment and leave it for others to ingest.

I have often written feelings and emotions and asked a friend to read it.
"Take this from me" is what my mind speaks. And then I am relieved of it.

A sigh is felt in the very center of me, and from that moment I can move forward to analyze another...feeling, emotion or curiosity.

And at this time the curiosity was...Jesus.

Everyone surrounding me at my work loved Jesus. I would ask them questions and they would reply with faith and failings and unendingly...with patience.

I decided to research Jesus. And for me it began with the Bible. A book I once revered, I now despised.
A belief I once "rebuked" my husband over, was now ridiculous.

When I opened my bible, I laughed and rolled my eyes. My plan was this: I would read the Bible cover to cover. I would ingest every word and come out in the end certain of myself and ridiculousness of it all.

I allotted myself time before work and each and every day, without fail...I would come out and with scorn, read aloud to Brandee a passage or two. I would end it with "Can you believe that shit?"

Soon enough, I came out less and less to scorn the bible.

I questioned Birdie at work about passages and took note of her individual beliefs over what each one meant.

I did not ask kindly. Once, when I was still deep into the old testament I asked Birdie to show me JUST one part of the bible that depicts love and not cruelty.

"One?" she questioned

"Yes, Just one." I replied

She pulled her bible from her purse and lifted the entire thing.

"No." I shook my head

"Yes." Juan argued from over the desk.

Still, despite the fact that my questions and the way I asked them were incorrigible, each one was answered kindly and eagerly by both of them.

During a couple discussions Juan would insist "I KNOW you believe."
I would shake my head and cross my arms.

"Yes you do."  He would stubbornly insist.

It took me one year to read the Bible from cover to cover, and when I reached the end I closed the book and shook my head.

I had started reading the bible with a hardened heart and a critical eye.
And I had ended it by finding strength and love.

In that bible I relived childhood memories, learned life lessons and became happier then I have ever been in my entire life.

It is not a faith born of ignorance, or because I was told to believe it. It is one that I studied with extreme prejudice and questioned Myself.

.... what a different person I have become, simply by observing joy in others and wondering what placed it there.....Wondering so hard that I picked up a Bible and grudgingly and unerringly sought it out.



Romans 5:4