Entertaining Atheism

I never thought that I could entertain the idea that perhaps, there really is no God. That is, until a few nights ago when my dad put on a TV program called "Letting God of God" where this woman actress (I forget what her name is, but she played "Pat" on SNL way back in the day) shared her thoughts on God and her spiritual journey which eventually led her to become an Atheist. Hearing her journey and though-process raised a lot of questions for me, and gave me a lot to ponder. I had a little rant session after watching and thought I would share some of my thoughts on the topic:

Ever since I can remember, I have had a belief in God, and I really don't see how the world could make sense without Him...the exotic creatures, the strange trees, the intricate designs on leaves and flowers, the complexity and complete miracle of human life. How could God NOT exist, I mean, come on. But does life really make sense WITH God in the picture? There are so many paradoxes in life, in nature, in the Bible that do not add up. Life is not predictable, it is not fair, and horrible, horrible things happen all the time, every day...where is God in all of that?

What would it mean for me if there really were no God? Could I really NOT believe anymore? My whole world would come crashing down. And what if, when we died, we just died. Then the uncertainty just goes on...I've always thought that at least, after i die, somehow I will find out the REAL answer to all of this...someday in Heaven, it will all make sense. But what if, when I die, I am just dead and gone? Then I will never know...and I will never know that I ever knew anything at all! Strange.

And strange to think that perhaps, no one is reading my thoughts or my mind- that my thoughts are private and reserved to only me. I don't know...I find such comfort in the words:

"Your ways are not my ways, and your thoughts are not my thoughts" (Isaiah 55:9) and "You know when I sit down and rise up...you are familiar with all of my ways" (Psalm 103).

I am so confused. With everything, with life.

What if there really was no God. Am I willing to step into that possibility? To have enough integrity to seek truth, even if that means abandoning what I have believed and "known" to be true for so long? My world would look so different. And I couldn't wait around anymore...for better days, for the 'after-life' or whatever. I only have this life now. this life. right now. and maybe that means that i have a lot more living to do in the present moment, and with that more responsibility to make a difference in the world now, since this could very well be the only life I have, by some strange coincidence.

So what will I do with this one wild and precious life, as Mary Oliver puts it?

This one. wild and precious. life.

i want to live wildly, and love loudly, and inhabit my own space, and be full of gratitude for this gift of life that I have right now- as i sit on my couch and feel warm and cozy and sip my tea and contemplate these things. thank you for this moment, to Whomever or whatever it may concern. i am truly grateful.

T H A N K S . G I V I N G

These are the things I am thankful for on this Thanksgiving day:

1. sleeping in

2. a walk around shell beach with the fam

3. the SUNSHINE!!! and the ocean

4. whales out in the water

5. a cup o' joe in the morning

6. dancing in the kitchen and making stuffing (last night)

7. prayer and holding hands

8. turkey

9. another walk to shell beach park with the whole family

10. cheesecake

11. more coffee

12. funny movies

13. cracking my sister's back

14. my hair straightener and a cute outfit.

These simple things are what make my life rich and full of joy. My dear family, I am SO thankful for you.

shame

Have you ever done something that you thought was a good idea at the time, but then, after you did it, realized that maybe it wasn't such a good idea? And then, whatever you did, in your head, the thing grows and grows until it becomes this HUGE monster that torments you for days, even months, and makes you both laugh at yourself and bury your face in your hands, and feel this sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach, where you just want to curl over and die and be buried in the earth and covered in complete darkness, with the lights turned out, and sink and sink until there is nothing left but darkness and nothing and nothing all around? Well, i feel like that sometimes.

turning the lights out now.

an unordinary prayer...

May God bless you with discomfort

at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships,

so that you may live deep within your heart

May God bless you with anger

at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people

so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears

to shed for those who suffer

from pain, rejection, starvation, and war

so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them

and turn their pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness

to believe that you can make a difference in this world

so that you can do what others claim cannot be done

- A Franciscan Benediction

pajama day (and other mortifying memories of a thirteen year old girl.)

one step forward, two steps back.

just when i think i have turned a new page, the old feelings, the old ways, the anxiety and nervousness find their way back inside me. and i am thirteen all over again.

like that time when it was "CRAZY week" in Junior High school (Pajama Day to be specific) and I did not have the courage wear real pajamas. So I wore sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt instead, just in case. That way if it turned out that it wasn't cool to wear pajamas, maybe my outfit could be pulled off as just being "casual" and no one would really notice. And if, on the other hand, it was cool to wear pajamas, they could be put in that category too. Either way, I was safe.

When I got to school, the first thing I noticed was that the coolest girl- Whitney Cooper- was wearing real pajamas. Baggy pajama pants with pink clouds on them, puffy slippers, and a matching sweatshirt. and all the other cool girls were wearing pajamas too, together. dangit! my halfway pajama outfit did not cut it.

Then i went to Social Studies class, and our teacher, Ms. Henderson, said that she would give extra credit points to the students who wore pajamas that day. She looked at my friend Sara and me (apparently Sara had the same insecurities that I did, since we were wearing similar outfits- in fact, we may have collaborated on our idea the night before) and said, "Well, I can't tell if you girls are really wearing pajamas, so I don't think you qualify for the extra credit points." I was mortified. She said it in front of the whole class. And i felt so embarrassed.

The next day, it was "Backwards Day." This time, I thought, FOR SURE, i'll get it right. So I put on my overalls backwards (with one strap undone, of course), and even came up with the creative idea to wear a bun on the front side of my head instead of on the back. My rationale was that, since, obviously, wearing real pajamas was the "cool" thing to do the day before, I would be super cool and go all out for "Backwards Day." So my dad dropped me off at the school parking lot, and the first thing I heard when I stepped on campus was this group of teenagers laughing to themselves, making comments, and looking at me. I didn't know who they were, but none of them were wearing backwards clothes. I remember I bolted straight to the bathroom, shook out my hair and switched my overalls around, and then tried to walk out acting like I didn't notice, when really, I felt completely mortified at myself. again.

I look back at this memory and laugh. I tried so hard. SO HARD. This beautiful, thirteen year old girl, that I have come to love; for her bravery, her kindness, the gentle and sweet way about her. Her courage to speak up when things were not right. Her creativity and wackiness and enthusiasm for life. Her heart for animals and people. Her strong convictions and desire to help. This girl is special, and I love her to death. And she is still inside me, making herself known in awkward and spontaneous ways, even at times when I would prefer that the grown up, more confident "me" would put her best face forward.

But things are different now. For the first time in my life, i am beginning to welcome her. to love her. to be kind and caring towards her. this young girl does not deserve to be shamed any longer. she never did. and i am making the choice to never do that to her again.

When I think back to this story, and remember other equally mortifying moments that occurred during those fragile teenage years; when hair was beginning to grow in awkward places, when pimples began rearing their ugly heads, and limbs and bumps awkwardly began spurting out everywhere, i laugh and i love. i feel the pain and the devastation, and i cry. and i grow to care for, and even like, this thirteen year old girl inside me. and this four year old girl. and this twenty-seven year old woman that is still learning. progressing and regressing. one day at a time.

among the trees

I was told that Mary Oliver, during one of her poetry readings, was asked the question about what she thought about kissing on a first date. She, a 75 year old woman, responded, "Why wait till the first date?" i love it her sassiness, and her writings. this poem brings delight, and simply moves me.

among the trees

when i am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

i would almost say that they save me, and daily.

i am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which i have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, "stay awhile."

the light flows from their branches.

and they call again, "its simple," they say,

"and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine."

Mary Oliver

tired.

yes, i feel tired. i am tired of praying - my words feel so old. tired of picking up my Bible and reading - it feels heavy in my hands. where do i start? these words are familiar, i have read them before. there is no mystery here- i have this god figured out.

tired of Christian radio and emotionally-charged music and sermons on CD and Christian "self-help" books; of "Becoming a Contagious Christian" and "making friends" in order to convert them. tired of fear-based religion- fear of sex; fear of alcohol; fear of dancing. and i love to dance. fear of the "other," of the "gray" areas in life, where things are messy and not as clear-cut as "black and white."

tired of One-year Bible reading tracks and programs with acronyms like "H-E-A-R-T" that are meant to lead us to the "goal," whatever that is.

i am. so. tired.

and yet, there is this longing. i don't know what it is, and i can't figure it out. but when i settle down and sit quiet, long enough to listen, i can feel it. i don't know what to do with it or where to go. and i weep.

i am at a loss for words. i don't know what to ask for, or what to say. my hands feel limp, and my body is numb. i am at the end of my rope, hanging on by a thread, and tired. longing for what? i don't know. maybe something "other" than me.

Love Fingers

He said to him, "You should love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind."  This is the greatest and first commandment.  And the second is like it: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 22:37-39.

This idea of love has been on my mind lately.  What does it mean to love my neighbor?  I have often felt a lot of pressure around this idea of loving other people unconditionally, regardless if I like them, if they get on my nerves, or if they just aren't very fun to be around. 

A few months ago someone I know was talking about a friend of theirs.  He told me that his friend made him a scarf, and said with a smile on his face, "I love her."  For some reason this really got on my nerves...of course he loves her!  She does things for him, makes him feel good.  I'm not sure why this bothered me so much, but I am beginning to realize that sometimes i feel resentful towards myself and others for our imperfect kind of love.  I know that love is a two-way street, and that any relationship takes mutuality and reciprocity from both sides.  But isn't love supposed to be unconditional?  Am I willing to love someone even when they fail me and let me down? Or, an even more scary thought...will someone be willing to love me even when I fail them, when I am not perfect?

I am beginning to come to grips with my own humanness, my own imperfect kind of love.  The expectations I have placed around love have been extremely high: I expect myself and others to love like God does.  This has caused me to place a lot of pressure on myself, and to become resentful.  But only His love is perfect.  His love is pure and true, it is strong and unwavering, it endures forever, and it never fails.  This is the kind of love that I need, the kind of love that breaks my heart and gets me through the day, the kind that warms me up and changes me.  "We love because He first loved us."  I am finding this verse to be so true...that my capacity to love God, love others and love myself comes from the kind of love that He has for me.  My love is still imperfect and human,  but I am grateful for His kind of love, and hopeful that my love can become a little bit more like His.