The things I think about

Just re-read some of my more recent posts.  In doing so, I am left wondering about whether a general disclaimer is necessary, that things are not that bad.  I'd even started to write one...but realized that is was more of a gremlin, make it all look good, people pleasing motive, than anything of actual substance.


It is Sunday morning, I am up because there is something in the oven for Church.  Kate is asleep, Winslow and Lily have both been attended to.  I am always particularly reflective on Sundays. 

I am thinking about God, faith, fate, free will.  This poem comes to mind:

Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?”

The Lord replied,
“The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand,
is when I carried you.”

--Mary Stevenson

There have been dark points in my life.  Pointed where I was so angry with God that I walked away for years at a time.  I did not feel his presence with me, or perhaps I was just too numb to notice. He probably was carrying me too, which is how I made it through, despite a few bumps and bruises, an occasional scar.  I've distanced myself again, I feel his presence, but not to the degree I did two years ago.  But I suspect that is more about me than anything else.  His gifts are all around me, I see them, I know them, I just do not always feel as connected to him directly.

I want the words to mean more. I want to feel that warmth that I do at other times, as I read the words, recite the words. Sure I went to CCD as a kid, even taught it--but what do I actually know from that experience?  Not a whole heck of a lot. 

Why do I associate faith with text and tradition?  I am not sure.  Socially constructed perhaps?  Full of shoulds and expectations?  Faith is different than religion.  Perhaps this is where I need to start.  I have faith.  I believe that there is a God, I've always gotten a bit hung up on the Jesus thing...but more in the why him?  Why then sort of way.  And then when the hell is he coming back to clean up the mess we've made?  Granted, I was not around in 1st century Palestine, but are we really that much better off now?  I think we missed a memo somewhere.

I do talk to God, though not in any sort of organized way.  There are points throughout the day/week where I am feeling particularly grateful.  It is in those times that I let him know.  I figure it's a good start.  I have stopped 'asking' for things--aside from guidance.  Figure he gets enough of that from the rest of the world.  I don't really yell at him anymore...though I do have discussions at times about the things I do not understand.  And there are a lot.  Perhaps I am also growing, shifting, maturing.  You know--sort of like the angry vengeful God of the Old Testament to the softer one of the New Testament.

We'll see.