Bible Throwing

She wasn't a bible beater. She was more like a bible thrower.
She didn't beat the bible down my throat or anyone else's for that matter. She didn't quote the scripture or carry one in her purse. She went to church but would sometimes miss weeks in a row. She was a believer but not a follower. But, when things got sticky, uncomfortable, beyond her control or comprehension, my momma would find that bible that lived on the end-table closest to the recliner, use it as back up and throw it in my face.

"Give me your hand, place it on the bible," she would say tenderly never forcefully.
"Now, son, swear to God on this bible that you will tell the truth about what I am about to ask you."

Without a trace of awkwardness, confusion, or hesitation I would place my hand on that bible like I was born to be sworn in on a regular basis. I was confident of my honesty as a boy just as much as I am now. No bible was gonna scare ol' C.B.! (nickname)

Except for this one time.....

She had a look in her eyes this time. It was a look of fear. A look from someone about to embark on uncharted territory. It wasn't like the other times she pulled out the bible. The other times were her way of instilling truth in her son. The other bible times were simple questions, "did you take that bubble gum from Aunt Cathy's purse, tell the truth under God." Or, "Did you sneak downstairs last night and watch T.V. past your bedtime, swear on the bible."

This time, however, was in slow motion. She was more nervous than I. With reluctance she grabbed the bible. She held it while dodging my 12 year old eye contact. What was she thinking? What did I do this time? Look at me Mom! It looks serious. She looked down at the bible with a look that was either asking for answers from the Almighty or asking for forgiveness for what she was about to do to her 12 year old son. My 31 year old mother looked up at her 12 year old first born son with tears in her eyes. I was scared to death. What have I done that requires a swearing on the bible and brings my mother to tears? Disappointing my parents was and still is my biggest fear.

With a trembling voice and streaks down her cheeks she held out the bible. I proudly, and almost defiantly, placed my hand on the bible while the first of my tears raced down my face and under my chin. I was prepared to face whatever was to come.

"Son, I need you to always tell the truth, okay? Liars are sinners and sinners don't get to go to heaven. And you want to go to heaven, right?"
I nodded my head in agreement as more tears fell from my eyes.
"Your father, grandmother and I have all noticed some things that you have done or been doing."
I nodded my head again in agreement. I was thinking they must have found out that I have been taking handfuls of cereal late at night. Or, maybe they knew that I had called the Alyssa Milano fan club hotline at $1.99 per minute that was listed at the bottom of my 3'x2' poster of Alyssa Milano?
"Do you know what playing with yourself means," Momma asked me.
I shrug with genuine ignorance.
"It means when you touch your private parts and it grows. Have you ever played with yourself?" Her tears were slow and sporadic. They were automatic almost. Like they were happening without her knowing.
"A little bit, I think." I replied suddenly recapping the weeks events in the shower, bathroom and bedroom.
"Remember not to lie honey. Because, your Dad caught you doing weird things in the bathroom last night before you got in the shower. And, Grandma knows that you've tried on her purple silk night gown before. And, your Dad and I have moved our dirty drawer to a place where you can't find it because we can tell that you have been rifling through it," she condescendingly stated in a voice usually reserved for my younger sibling.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I shouldn't touch other people's stuff."
I hoped that would be the end. But, no.
"Honey, whatever you are doing is wrong. It's called masturbation. Some people say it is normal but it's not."
"I'm not doing that," I quickly retort. "I'm just acting it out. I found Dad's penthouse magazine and I was acting out the parts."
"So, you have never cum?" She asked.
I must have stayed still with no reaction. Long pause. Uncomfortable silence.
She continued..."Cum is when you play with yourself so much that your private parts let's out a different liquid than pee."
"OH NOOOO," I shouted while shaking my head emphatically right and left. "That sounds gross and scary! I have never done that! I don't want to do that! I swear on the bible and to God!"
I was telling the truth too. I hadn't learned to cum yet. I didn't know what I was doing was the beginnings of masturbation. I really believed I was acting out the parts of a man and a woman about to have sex. I didn't realize what I was doing was leading to something gross, dirty, shameful, and wrong. Not until this moment.
Mom continued..."People say it is normal, but it's not normal to masturbate. I don't do it, your Dad rarely does it. You shouldn't do it either. You understand? And, if you do do it, be quick and private about it. Then you should always go back to your room and kneel and pray to God for giving into temptation. You understand, honey?"

She was still crying. There might have been a bit more about how weird it was. She asked me why I was doing the things I had been caught doing. I had no explanation. I was discovering myself. And, had I been and advanced thinker at twelve, that's how I would have responded to her. Finally, she hugged me and said she loved me. I remember wondering why this was so difficult for her. Why the tears and lack of eye contact. Any other time I was punished or reprimanded she was stern and quick. This time it was embarrassing and sad for both her and me. I wouldn't realize till much later in life that she was crying because she was lying. She didn't pull out that bible to tell me the sins of masturbation. She too masturbated. She knew in her heart of hearts that as awkward as masturbation may be to talk about it, it is a normal human behavior. She didn't pull out that bible for me to tell the truth. Because she would have been shocked by the truth. She pulled out that bible to scare me from discovering myself. She didn't want that boy in the silk purple night gown, or the boy in the bathroom acting like a man and a woman, to grow up and be different, weird, abnormal, strange or...Gay. She was being a first time mother dealing with her first son's firsts.

I went through adolescence terrified of masturbating, regardless of how loud my hormones were shouting through my undergarments. Before I moved off to college I could still count on only one hand how many times I actually came to, so to speak, while "playing with myself." It became fodder for the students in my dormitory. I was eventually able to laugh at myself and the circumstances that brought me here. I was also, eventually, able to loosen up and become and regular masturbator.

I am sure this incident in my childhood has had a huge impact on my sexual life, my intimate life, and my, now, perpetual masturbation. (Making up for lost years)
But, if there is one thing I learned from that bible and from my mother's half-assed religious faith it was that forgiveness is so strong it can raise you up from the depths of darkness. Forgiveness can wash away your sins and help pave a path toward heaven. Forgiving someone is one of the greatest deeds and gifts you can give another.

Twelve years after my masturbation bible study, I came out to my momma. I told her I was gay. I said...
"I swear to God, momma, I really am Gay!"

That same year, after 9/11 she and I flew to sunny Los Angeles, California for a vacation together. Just her and I. We were having some drinks in our hotel room and laughing about how many times she threw the bible at my hand. She rolled her eyes as she unwrapped another Hershey's Kiss.
She said..."Son, I am so sorry. I didn't know what to do. All those times with the bible was my way of looking for some guidance in parenting. I just wanted you to be an honest person. That was ridiculous of me to throw out that bible all the time. I'm sorry." She laughed but bowed her head slightly. I wondered if the roles had been reversed just then. Was my mother feeling the way I felt when I was 12 years old and caught playing with myself.
So, I asked her.
"Remember telling me about masturbation? With the bible in your hand? You told me it was wrong. You told me not to do it, but if I did to be quick and then pray it away?"
There was a moment of silence as she waited for the rest of the chocolate in her mouth to melt. She looked at me stunned. She had genuine surprise in her eyes.
"I can't believe I said that. Did I really say that? I am so sorry. I don't think that, C.B. I never thought that. It was just that...well, um, what you were doing was weird. The night gown thing and the behaviors and such. I didn't know how to talk to you about it. I think I probably knew you were going to grow up gay. But I didn't even want to put the idea in your head. So I focused on masturbation. I am so sorry."
She began to giggle. I said it was okay. I told her it took me awhile to be okay with the idea of masturbating. I asked why she was laughing. She explained how the topic made her uncomfortable to talk about even to this day. I started to giggle. We broke out into laughter. It was uncomfortable to talk about this stuff with your mom while your drunk in a hotel room. But, in that moment, in the hotel by the LAX airport, the silence had been broken between my mother and I. She knew things now. I knew things now. The candor was flowing. I had forgiven my mother. She said she was sorry. I believed it. I accepted it. I forgave.
I was going to heaven.
I would be GAY and jerking off while I was there, but I would also be a loving and forgiving son who's goin' to heaven.

Amen!