Baby boy

The baby boy Chaney who grows in my belly has gotten active. I awoke in the middle of the night with strange dreams and acrobatics from the little guy. As he kicks and tumbles and steals attention, I wonder:

Will he know he is great and strong and smart and beautiful, with every breath he takes?

Will he know that I and his father and his big brother, we flesh and blood heart-beating twins of his soul, will love him with more passion and presence than any faceless, formless, nebulous, empty, echoing God envisioned by man?

Will he know that religion as we know it and have always known it only divides and torments us, dangling the promise of eternal bliss just one more good deed away from our fearful and searching hearts? Will he be spared the never ending conditional carrot and stick of the Right Christian Path, the one that trumpets "unconditional love" while conditioning its blessings on you being just a bit more Christ-like?

Will he live free of the deafening drumbeat of Catholic guilt, the kind that no longer limits itself to just a Catholic flock? Will he see the concept of original sin for the strangling, suffocating man-made curse that it is?

Will he know without a doubt in the world, as I do, that there is no such thing as hell after death?

Will he take comfort in praise for the real people who gild his life, rather than in rehearsed and rehashed prayer for miracles from the guy you've never once laid eyes on?

Will he discern and disarm the hypocrisy of politicians and priests who promise a better America, but just for believers and heterosexuals and traditional submissive Bachmann-brides?

Will he see the end of depression, recession, riot and rape?

Will he be one of the immortals that scientists claim has already been born?

Will he walk in the post-religion epoch of peace and kindness and jubilation that stands out like a prophecy in my mind?

And will he have the good sense to learn Chinese?

We are ready to meet you Good Son. Have a safe journey.