Tag Archives: God

God’s Vacation

We haven’t been to church in a month.  I went 6/27 with the kids but I was the childcare volunteer that day.  The following week we were in Connecticut and the week after, the human alarm clocks slept until 9.  This past Sunday, my folks were in town for M’s birthday.  The pastor and organist have called to make sure that we are okay, which is so reassuring and. . . I don’t know. . . quaint? 

As a kid, missing church was a joy. But I feel kind of unsettled now.  The Congos have summer scheduling (an hour earlier) and no coffee hour, which is making it more difficult to get everyone up, dressed, out the door and remotely on time.  But I’m telling you now, vast multitudes of readership, I really want to try and make it this week.  I will bring my own snacks, but I need to go.

And it’s not that I haven’t been contemplative for the past month.  I have.  I’ve been having my personal chats with God, He’s letting me know that we’re on the right path.  But I need to go to the physical building (which will be beastly hot) and sit there for an hour (really more like 45 minutes– the Congos tend to go for shorter in the warmer months too.) Why is it different to go and pray in the church?

I just hope there is childcare.  The goob-keteers don’t go in for sitting.

But both Mr. AFT and I have been feeling unsettled.  There’s been some changes afoot at HQ (an understatement.)  We have no plans whatsoever to reverse any of those changes but we need the balance of contemplation.

Do you?

Grateful

It’s been one of those days where things get a little overwhelming. There’s lots to tell you and I will, I promise, but all of my news is dwarfed by my all-encompassing feeling of thankfulness for my life as it is.

Two days ago, someone I don’t know posted to a listserv that I belong to.  She wrote:

You must think I am crazy to be doing this right now but I don’t know what to do with myself. We just got back from the hospital, as our beautiful son has passed away this morning. So I am trying to be busy and think about his memorial service. I am Catholic, my husband is not, we don’t mind a Catholic Church, but does anyone have any other suggestions? He liked to look out windows a lot, so maybe something with pretty morning light,
thank you for your ideas.

The little boy, Jasper, had congenital heart failure and apparently, a host of other related problems.  Mama wrote a bog that I discovered today that I had to stop reading because it ripped my heart out.

No matter how overwhelmed I may get, my sweet, perfect babies are here. Countless times in the past two days, I have stopped what I was doing just to hug them and stroke their hair.

If you pray, please include this family in your prayers. If you have children, go now and kiss them. If you have troubles or fears, keep them in perspective. The news of this tragedy humbles me. I want to tell you more eloquently all about it, but words fail me.  I promise to be back to being my self tomorrow, but this new thankfulness will remain.

This sorrow makes me question why God might have allowed this, which also makes me consider exactly what I conceive God to be.  I’ve already talked about how I’m pretty sure He’s not a middle-aged white guy with a gray beard and flowing white robes that disappear into the mist. No matter what He is or isn’t, why would He let this happen? (I’m also pretty sure that “He” isn’t the perfect pronoun for God.) There’s lots of stock answers to that question, most of which involve having faith in God knowing more that we mere mortals.  And I do have faith, but I still question why.

No answers here tonight.

One Day Closer

There is action on the adoption front!  Admittedly, a small, small , teeny-tiny step, but we’re still excited.

A social worker is coming to do a pre-home study visit in one week.

From what I understand, the purpose of the visit is to make sure that our home is physically safe for a small child.  Sufficient fire exits and hand rails, no exposed live wires, decorative sword collection under lock and key, no bags of broken glass strewn about. Our home is pretty child safe at this point– you know, since two small children live here– but now we are going through the house with an eye to overkill and putting child locks on every cabinet. I’m stopping short of bolting the furniture to the walls.

What I really want to do is make sure Thor’s room is ready.  (“Thor” is our stand-in name for our pre-adoptive child.)  I need to clear out the closet, put away John’s books, make it more little boy friendly.  We’ll paint once we are matched.

As exciting as this is, I am nervous.  Every small step makes this course of action that much more real.  It’s not that I am having second thoughts (although it seems most everyone is expecting me to,) but we are now moving from the theoretical to the actual.  Part of our reason for adopting is that we feel God is calling us to open our home. Admitting to the call of God is just not something in keeping with who I thought I always was. Not to mention that people who hear and obey God’s call often end up sounding like unhinged fanatics.

One day closer to answering God’s call. One day closer to fanaticism? I hope not.

Prayer for the Spiritually Challenged

One of the premises of this blog is that I believe in God and go to church, but I’m not a typical “church lady.”  I’ve done many things that one normally wouldn’t associate with church-going and in my current incarnation I fancy myself a hip and somewhat together mommy type.  Sometimes, people express disbelief that someone like me prays.  Well, I’m certainly not saying a rosary.  Following is a rough recollection of my internal monologue during the prayers of the people in service last Sunday.  Mads was in day care, not goobing around and causing a ruckus (for detail on her behavior, check on this post: https://afunnythinghappenedontheway.wordpress.com/2010/01/12/the-noises-of-children/) , so I actually got to pay attention.

God, please help and guide Ann on her journey through chemotherapy . . . she hasn’t been to church in a long time . . .I’m not even sure she believes. . . she needs Your help. . . hey, remember when we took her kids on the Freedom Trail and Madison announced, loudly, in Old South Church that she’d never been in a church before. . . funny stuff. . . I wonder if they will come to Charlotte’s christening. . . back to praying. . .help those in Haiti. . . You must be getting overload on the Haitians. . . what’s the plan down there. . . what do You call me to do. . . wow, these shoes are ugly. . .I can’t believe I even wear these shoes. . . they are practical, though. . .when did my life change from a black high heels kind of life to a hideous fleece-lined mocassin things kind of life. . . God, guide me on the journey to care for others. . .guide us on our journey to adoption. . . is Charlotte waking up. . . thank You God for our sweet Charlotte. . .I never thought I would have this life and thank You for making it for me and bringing my husband and my children to me. . .is someone snoring. . . Amen.

In case you missed it, my God is a casual guy who chats with me in His particular way.  As my pastor put it in her sermon a few weeks ago, “My Jesus is sarcastic.  He’s wholly human.”  This I can relate to.

A shout-out to Kristin G-W, who actually sent a comment when I asked lurkers to identify themselves.  You don’t need to; I’m just curious.  Hi G!  An email is coming to you, should my girls ever be quiet enough at the same time that I can compose one.

Over and out!  Have a great day.