A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Tell Him I Said Hi

I don't tend to blog about really personal things, because honestly, I'm not always comfortable with people understanding me too completely.
I like my privacy, I like my hopes and dreams to be my own and maybe that's dysfunctional but while I tend to be very OPEN about so many things.....if you know me....and you think about it.....I don't tend to break into conversation about the deep and meaningful very often.
I don't want to talk about your religion, your morals, your politics, etc......or mine.

Why is that?

I'm not sure. Maybe it's because I want to appear cool with a facade like smooth marble. Really hip, carefree, expensive marble. Just enough flaws to be human.

So this, then, is a completely different sort of post.

Some of you have been reading long enough to remember my railing over the Crash of Flight 5191, and the loss of so many including my wonderful friend Bobby. It was a very traumatic time for me, I cried a lot at work, sitting in my office sobbing, crying at home, crying to and from work, in general......I cried. A lot.
And I was angry.

I flew to my former home in Lexington and spent a few days in the embrace of people I love very much, as all of of grieved and sorted out all the emotions that go with the process of grief. But something else happened to me during those days.

I lost my faith.

I haven't talked about it to anyone. I don't know how to start the conversation. "So hey by the way, I don't believe in God anymore." How do you broach that? I don't know the segue. But, while I was there, listening to people memorialize the dead, speaking of their own faith and the faith of those departed.......I sat horrified with myself, realizing that I didn't believe in any of it.

Was it petulance? Anger at a deity I felt had wronged me and others? Rage at heaven for such atrocity? There have been worse atrocities......but still, I hadn't felt like that then. But sitting, listening to the words meant to comfort, words of solace and support.....I realized I was cut adrift. Floating.

Without support from above.

I did not Believe.

I've harbored this for months now. At loss for my loss of Belief. Feeling robbed of something I wanted to have. I wear my opal cross and finger the stones....wishing I felt something passionate like Belief, like the comfort of the Divine.

And then something happened. I made fun of it at the time, because I am a jerk like that, but now I'm going to tell the truth of it.

When I was in the airport waiting to depart to Chicago for training at my new job, I was sitting minding my own business and eating next to two gentlemen who were talking in earnest about the nature of goodness, and it was a talk religious in nature. I was exactly jerk enough to listen a bit and consider the bit from the Vampire Lestat book (I forget which one) where someone tells a story of once overhearing God and the Adversary having a similar conversation in a coffee shop. Anyway, I was lost in thought, eating my Church's or Popeye's or whatever it was, when suddenly one of them touched me on the sleeve.

I looked up and looked into his face, which was kind and gentle. And he looks directly into my eyes and said," I just need to tell you, Jesus loves you."

And for a fleeting moment.....I felt relief. I laughed and said something like "What else did he say?"

But in fact, I was wishing it was true.

And now I wonder, how would I ever know the difference between divine messenger and whack job - since they tend to say the same things? And I don't know now, if I believe in GOD but not the entire kit and caboodle of religion or if I have shucked all of it like a skin.

So anyway, my religious friends and neighbors. I guess this is what I say.

I'm off the path. Maybe not completely.
But if you see Him. Tell Him I said Hi.


MICHAEL said...

About 3 years ago I dropped into a black hole – four months of absolute terror. I wanted to end my life, but somehow [Holy Spirit], I reached out to a friend who took me to hospital. I had three visits [hospital] in four months – I actually thought I was in hell. I imagine I was going through some sort of metamorphosis [mental, physical & spiritual]. I had been seeing a therapist [1994] on a regular basis, up until this point in time. I actually thought I would be locked away – but the hospital staff was very supportive [I had no control over my process]. I was released from hospital 16th September 1994, but my fear, pain & shame had only subsided a little. I remember this particular morning waking up [home] & my process would start up again [fear, pain, & shame]. No one could help me, not even my therapist [I was terrified]. I asked Jesus Christ to have mercy on me & forgive me my sins. Slowly, all my fear has dissipated & I believe Jesus delivered me from my “psychological prison.” I am a practicing Catholic & the Holy Spirit is my friend & strength; every day since then has been a joy & blessing. I deserve to go to hell for the life I have led, but Jesus through His sacrifice on the cross, delivered me from my inequities. John 3: 8, John 15: 26, are verses I can relate to, organically. He’s a real person who is with me all the time. I have so much joy & peace in my life, today, after a childhood spent in orphanages [England & Australia]. God LOVES me so much. Fear, pain, & shame, are no longer my constant companions. I just wanted to share my experience with you [Luke 8: 16 – 17].

Peace Be With You

Greg Hoffman, Internet Marketing Gorilla said...

As you know, I found my way back earlier this year by going to confession for the first time in 23 years.

On Father's Day tomorrow, my family and I will be in church.

I'll say hi for ya kiddo...

Gidge said...

And now you get, a boot to the head.