Yesterday, my friend-who-is-a-pastor checked in:
“And I keep wondering how your faith is doing since our last chat and prayer. You don’t have to write a big, long email explaining things. Just wanted to mention that I wonder (but don’t NEED to know; I know it’s a complex, personal thing – that’s an understatement, huh).”
I offer the reply here. No real signs of life, more “this is how I’ve been padding through.”Again, I write to bring light to the too huge and often hidden population who daily overcome the effects of rape, trauma, and abuse; people of all ages and abilities and zip codes. This season is becoming “history” in its own time and with considerable effort. It does not speed.
[ ] indicate edits
And for my faith journey, the closest thing to pursuit is this Lost* viewing. And running and walking. I’m taking golf lessons to stretch my grinchy little heart and overcome fear. Next up is tennis. I am navigating this new life. One tiny little step at a time.
I am pleased with my grief progress and grateful for the people – the connections – that have lovingly and patiently encircled me at this and every time.
I cannot be perfect, I cannot experience or even conjure God, though I talk to “him” just in case “he” exists – despite how horribly his kids treat one another and the people who[m] they despise (rather than the people’s actions.) I cannot barter, nor can I make this better. I keep sniffing the wind and tossing rocks to discern my next step while staying light on my feet and [moving forward].
With all that I’ve lost all along the way, it would be nice…I would be grateful to have direction. So far, I know without a doubt that – despite my abilities, persistence, tenacity, experiences, failures, and expectations of achievement and leadership, etc, I am a born nurturer. How can I earn a salary/wage and develop a career as a nurturer? I am terrified that this is it. The sum total of my life. Missing “God” and washing up as a professional and human being/doing by myself.
And I know that by writing this, I am admitting some sort of elitist thinking-that only “greatness” is acceptable work/life. Some grandiose notion of my own value and worth to a greater good, when all I can do is continue to walk into horrible situations [of the heart]. And inherently, this is demeaning to people who serve and live in all manners and places of work/life.
Sometimes, I wonder if I am delusional and that was what all this faith was-wishful thinking and a continuation of trying to be perfect and acceptable so that love would find and protect me.
That’s where I am. Faith-wise. It’s all connected and-at the same time-tenuously connected.
I am grateful that Madi and Zach are moving on towards their marriage and a new apartment that helps them to save money and plan for their good future. They are a good team. I cannot ask for more for them. But I do-for health, hope, and happiness.
I am grateful that Kenan has found his life’s adventure (or next step), he has found what he is willing to work hard toward and sacrifice for; he earned another scholarship last night-one that will help him finish out his last year financial[ly] okay. He’s a good man. I cannot ask for more for him. But I do-for health, hope, and happiness.
Clearly, I’m well fed. I have strength and mobility. My memory is returning after that effing trauma to 80-85%. My little apartment expands when people come, sometimes serves as a wildlife sanctuary, and keeps me safe and cozy (minus the flying vermin). My eyesight is still good so I can still read when my focus allows. I have a terrific race bike that needs to be used. My diet includes more varieties of fruits and vegetables than ever they did when I was a vegetarian.
I’m writing sporadically. It fills my cup in a small way[;] it adds and does not subtract.
This is my faith journey. Not much on Faith. Big on Journey.
See you tomorrow.
* I felt compelled (and resisted it for years) to watch the telly series, Lost. I tried. After two seasons, I think I’m hanging up my Oceanic oxygen mask.