I'm still wrestling with the whole church issue. We've quit going to church and are much happier for it. No rushing around, no fussing at the kids, no stress. Actually, over the summer, we've been going to the pool at 10 am on Sunday mornings and we've had such sweet family time.
I want to write about two books that have led me to this point-that's for another time, but I will do it.
The way the rest of the world experiences God is so vastly different than the way we do in America. Is the rest of the world wrong? Most churches would have you believe so. Worship and belief has to be structured in a certain way, thought of in a certain way, and lived out in a certan way. Otherwise, you're doing the God-thing wrong.
Most of our church friends don't understand us anymore. They don't know how to carry on a conversation with us, since we are no longer "church people." They ask if we've found another church. We say "No,and we're not looking." Then silence. Can they only relate to people who are in church? That's NOT how it's supposed to be.
Do I know how it's supposed to be? No. I only know they way we've been doing it isn't right.
Is it right to preach the Great Commandment (Love one another) then turn around and tell homosexuals they're not allowed in your church? No.
Is it right to tell people they can only come to God one way and it has to be the way their denomination believes? Look at others around the world and they will tell you differently.
My church friends tell me to have more quiet times, to pray more, to listen to Christian music or to read Christian books. I'll find the answers there, they say. Oh really? I've read A TON of Christian books (fiction and nonfiction), I've been a quiet time Nazi, I've lain prostrate on the floor in prayer. I've been there. I've done that. And it wasn't right. It was me following a plan that man put together to show his devotion to God.
Do you know how I show love and devotion to God? I love my kids. I love my husband. I help my friends. I'm nice to strangers. Could I be doing more? Yes. Should I be doing more? Yes. Have I reconciled that? No.
It's in the living that matters, not in the religous rites.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
"Much-loved"
Somtimes I look at Amanda and I am so overwhelmed with love, amazement, joy, anticipation that I can physically feel it wash over me.
Sometimes I think I need to go to counseling so I can learn how to deal with her better.
She is amazing. She is joyful. She makes me laugh.
I want the best for her--I just wish she didn't seem to be always drawing the worst out of me!
She had to take some medicine this morning. She does not like taking medicine, no matter what brand, what flavor. It all tastes gross to her. So she stands in the bathroom, medicine cup in hand, bottle of water in the other. She sips the water, sips the medicine. I can almost see her mind working, "Nope. That didn't work." She put the water bottle to her mouth and the medicine cup to her mouth. Her mind: "Hmmmmmm. I might try it this way. No. This won't work. Try something else." She sips the medicine, then sips the water. That works better. She gets down from the stool and wipes her mouth on a towel. Medicine must have dripped down it. Then she stands at the towel, feeling its softness on her face. She grins (I'm sure she does, even though her back is to me. I just know her.) She climbs on the stool. I laugh. She looks at me, surprised she was being watched. This is the moment when I want to sweep her up in a hug and never let go.
The only way to get her to take her medicine is to leave her alone. If she has an audience, it will take her all day. Trust me on this. I walk to the kitchen and seconds later she comes flying in, "Mom! I'm done!"
I wouldn't put it past her to dump it down the sink just to be done with it.
And I love her for it, yes, even for that. For her audacity to dump it just because she doesn't want to do it. For her eagerness to be back with me in the same room.
She is much-loved. Always and forever.
Sometimes I think I need to go to counseling so I can learn how to deal with her better.
She is amazing. She is joyful. She makes me laugh.
I want the best for her--I just wish she didn't seem to be always drawing the worst out of me!
She had to take some medicine this morning. She does not like taking medicine, no matter what brand, what flavor. It all tastes gross to her. So she stands in the bathroom, medicine cup in hand, bottle of water in the other. She sips the water, sips the medicine. I can almost see her mind working, "Nope. That didn't work." She put the water bottle to her mouth and the medicine cup to her mouth. Her mind: "Hmmmmmm. I might try it this way. No. This won't work. Try something else." She sips the medicine, then sips the water. That works better. She gets down from the stool and wipes her mouth on a towel. Medicine must have dripped down it. Then she stands at the towel, feeling its softness on her face. She grins (I'm sure she does, even though her back is to me. I just know her.) She climbs on the stool. I laugh. She looks at me, surprised she was being watched. This is the moment when I want to sweep her up in a hug and never let go.
The only way to get her to take her medicine is to leave her alone. If she has an audience, it will take her all day. Trust me on this. I walk to the kitchen and seconds later she comes flying in, "Mom! I'm done!"
I wouldn't put it past her to dump it down the sink just to be done with it.
And I love her for it, yes, even for that. For her audacity to dump it just because she doesn't want to do it. For her eagerness to be back with me in the same room.
She is much-loved. Always and forever.
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