I don’t want to bore you with a treatise on my spiritual beliefs but indulge me if you will while I set the stage. I think I’ve mentioned that my Dad is a Presbyterian minister so I grew up in the church. Both of my parents have this incredible impermeable faith but also believe that religion should be inclusive and loving. They’re liberal and pride themselves on open-mindedness. So in my family God and church don’t equal bible banging, self-righteousness, or condemnation.
After I graduated from high school, I stopped going to church. I think part of it was a step in the natural evolution of “finding myself.” But straying from church was also due to the fact that it had become tied up with my Dad’s illness and some of the terrible things that happened to my family. While I’ve always believed in God, for years and years I didn’t even consider going to church. In the last year, I’ve realized I miss it and am uncomfortable with the lazy ambiguity of the position I’ve taken.
Another piece of this puzzle is that I’ve grown very, very angry with God. I know that many people have endured terrible things and I don’t want to complain but relatively speaking, I’ve experienced far more than my fair share of poo. For so many years it seemed never ending. I felt abandoned. It stopped occuring to me to pray. God had given me this ridiculous lot so what was the point? I’ve only recently intellectualized these feelings and let me tell ya – it’s a sad state of affairs. I’m doing some stuff to work on this predicament, including making a concerted effort to be in touch with The Man Upstairs. (Are you there God? It’s me Mymsie.) It’s an interesting experience during which I’ve realized I hadn’t stopped communicating with God entirely; I’d just stopped asking for help or feeling like I had anyone or anything to rely on.
I’m telling you all this because I like to keep it real up in here AND it might help explain why the stuff I’m about to share is a bit significant. Remember when I mentioned what terrible shape my bed was in and how desperately I needed a new one, even if it were only a tack-studded 2 x 4 because nothing could be worse than the iMod (insane mattress of death) I had? Well not a week after I said that, I got a bed! It’s a long story for another time but most of my Mom’s belongings have been in storage for quite some time. During her last visit, she was finally able to move everything to her new home. She’d already gotten a new bed so she offered her old bed, the one that had been in storage, to me! It’s no Sleep Number or Tempurpedic but I’m very grateful to have it.
And also ‘member how yesterday I got a car wash but it was a particular kind I loathe? Today I attended a conference for work and the hosts gave away prizes to try and distract us from how much their company sucks. I won one and guess what it was? A book of 6 car washes – hee!
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I got a gilded bed and some free wash jobs because I found Jesus but it is interesting what’s transpired since I’ve started down this new path. There have been other developments too – some more significant – some minor and perhaps some I’m over-aggrandizing. But even though I have a long road ahead, I feel like I’m doing something that will help me grow and become what I’m meant to become.
(For the record I don’t think God necessarily has to be a “he” or any rigid construct for that matter. And I don’t want to come across as the type of person who thinks that God is about memememe and what can he do for me and the only reason to pray is to get prizes. I absolutely do not think that [but God if you’re reading this you should know that I think prizes are cool!])
Well, I’m off to sin. I’ve had a long day so I’m going to keep it pretty low key tonight. You know, just your basic false-witness bearing and maybe a smidge of coveting someone’s ass.