Wednesday, September 14, 2016

What is God?

Over the last few months I've had quite a shift in my beliefs about "God." I think I've pretty well given up on being a Christian. There are several reasons why. Really to sum it up, Christianity is full of false promises. It's not just the obviously ridiculous ones that I've found to be false (such as "seed faith offerings." hey god, want to take a little bribe?) It's the 'big' ones as well.

At this point I'd consider myself pretty much agnostic, but have given the idea of pantheism some thought. The whole sell of a "personal god" to me was the biggest lie and letdown I've ever fallen for in my life. We were told in church that God is involved in every intimate detail of our lives. Omni-something. Yeah right. I found trying to believe this and live accordingly to be the biggest bag of letdowns ever.

We were also told God cares about everything going on with us, our trials, sorrows, etc. Really? Why doesn't he do something about them then? Not necessarily as in, erase them, but even provide better for us to be able to get through them without losing hope and faith altogether? This is something I've finally come to accept: that I don't have faith and may not really even need it. Not faith in a personal God, that is.

Pantheism isn't something I'm well educated about. I've followed a facebook page on pantheism, and find a lot of the discussion is by cerebrals with a lot of information and a lot to say. Much of it leaves me saying, "huh?" But the general idea is, pantheists do not believe God is a who, but God is an it. That there is not a "personal god" separate from us, but that 'all is God.' All that is everywhere, is part of the Universe, which is God.

Some would argue that all of this had to be created by Someone. I personally don't think it all just happened. I am trying to re-think my ideas of a creator. I've never been at all comfortable with the God in the Bible, now that I've officially given up on trying to make that shoe fit. I don't like the idea of depending on a male deity for my sustenance, well-being or self-esteem. Not one bit. Not with my life experiences.

Instead, I am trying to think of Essence, or Being, or Life. Something far beyond our comprehension. At least the Lakota people were honest about it. Wakan Tanka, the Great Mystery. Unlike the arrogant white men with their bibles tucked under one arm and guns under the other, taking the Natives' land in Jesus name. I see the continuation of such attitudes all the time in Christians nowadays. Having the ultimate Answer Book makes people so arrogant, cold and hateful. Mystery is a necessary element in humility.

It's a challenge to get away from the "who" thinking that left me feeling unloved, powerless and victimized and embrace a "what" idea instead. But whatever small improvements I make are good. The relief of no longer having to beg a male authority figure (who is probably only imaginary anyway) for help or provision is significant. Trying to learn to see myself as an equal and valuable part of the Universe is a challenge I'm glad to take on. It's much better than the Christian challenge of trying to impress a God who supposedly loves us, yet we're constantly reminded he might not. Who can really know? It's better to save that wasted mental energy and focus it instead on the one thing I do have some control over: myself.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Bullying Sucks!

First of all, let me make it clear that I have a few wonderful extrovert friends with good hearts. I cannot imagine that they would ever, under any circumstances, mistreat another person like the incident I will describe in this blog. I am in no way lumping all extroverts together as "the bad guys." However, I have experienced many times that when an extroverted personality is combined with an ugly heart, bad things happen. Things that their targets can take months or years to recover from, as they blaze on down their trail, swords and clubs in hand, waiting to whack the next person who gets in their way.

As introverts, I'm sure we can all remember our school days and the kids we had to put up with. I can remember for instance sitting and minding my own business, eating my peanut butter sandwich in the lunchroom, watching the antics around me. One kid might be laughing as he yanked another kid's chair out from under him. Another might be cutting in the lunch line, pushing the quiet kid behind him out of the way. And a third might swoop up behind me and swipe my peanut butter sandwich out of my hand, taunting "come get it!" as he ran off laughing.

These annoying, childish extrovert antics we introverts all endured in school may change in their practical presentation as we grow from childhood into adulthood. But, the dynamics remain the same. And, unfortunately, the stakes can be higher and the fallout greater.

I recently had to pull my daughter and myself out of a homeschool group because of the treatment we received there. My daughter, incidentally, is an extrovert, with many extrovert tendencies. But, fighting with other kids for sport is not one of them. She tends to play boisterously and speak her mind to the point of being bossy sometimes. However, she doesn't have a mean bone in her body.

My daughter, "Ava," was friends with another little extrovert girl, "Mia," in the homeschool group. That is, until Mia realized my daughter was just as boisterous and headstrong as she is. Mia liked to lead the pack. She liked to be in charge and be the center of attention. Over time I realized that Mia was very spoiled and encouraged by her mother, "Sunnie," to believe that she had the right to completely dictate her environment and the people in it. Sunnie organized exclusive events at her house where only "some" members of the group were invited.

Long story short, Mia decided that not only did she no longer wished to be friends with my daughter Ava, but she decided she hated Ava passionately. She began snubbing Ava quite rudely each time she saw her. Looking back, I can see a string of incidents that led to the blow-up. One was when Mia and another little girl were making fun of Mia's handicapped brother. Ava told them they were wrong to do that and wouldn't back down. It was clear Mia didn't like having someone stand up to her. So she upped the ante.

The next time we arrived first at Mia's house for a playgroup, Mia rudely snubbed each of Ava's attempts to be friendly to her. Ava is not the type of child who holds grudges but we found out that Mia is. And as soon as the second guests arrived, Mia took the other girls into her room with her, slamming the door in Ava's face.

One of the reasons I have a hard time sharing the planet with people who act like this is that I can't even imagine being so nasty to another person. Nor knowingly allowing my child to be so ugly. I asked Ava if she wanted me to go tell the other mothers, who were chatting just around the corner, what was going on. With tears in her eyes, she said, no Mommy, I just want to stay out here with you.

I now know that the other mothers had been holding a grudge against me and my child right along with their daughters for a while. Apparently they had decided my daughter was "aggressive" when she's really just boisterous. They had also decided she is a "troublemaker" because she wouldn't back down from standing up for a handicapped child who was being teased. So, I can look back and see that these other moms were knowingly allowing their daughters to slam the door in my daughter's face and refuse to play with her. After that playgroup, I emailed the hostess mom asking her what was wrong and if we could work out any differences, but she brushed me off saying, "nothing, I just have a lot on my mind."

The whole mess finally openly erupted on a field trip a few days later. As soon as Mia saw us, she glared at Ava, then marched up to me, handed me a bag of a few things Ava had left at her house, and snarled, "You need to tell Ava to stop leaving her junk at my house." She spun around and marched away leaving me standing in dismay, holding my daughter's hand. My daughter looked up at me with big, hurt, questioning eyes. I realize now I should have left the field trip right then. But, Ava had really been looking forward to this field trip. And, as an introvert, one of my biggest weak areas is thinking on my feet and acting appropriately on the spot. How many times I have looked back after an incident of attack and thought, "I SHOULD have said..."

So I stayed close to Ava's side. During the orientation, Mia gathered up a group of other girls, practically shoved them all in the seats at the table with her, and snapped at Ava, "You can't sit here! There's not enough room!" I saw another mom, "Cathy," whom I normally find to be unfriendly, tell Mia that there was enough room for Ava and to let her sit down with the other girls. (Even someone who doesn't seem to like me had noticed Mia's treatment of my daughter). But Ava chose to sit with me in the back. Bless her heart, she enjoyed the orientation games with me as her partner. She has a strong spunky spirit that seems very resilient. If that had happened to me at age 8, I would have been crying in the corner waiting to leave.

Then came the worst. We were all loaded on a hay wagon for the longest and most unpleasant ride I have endured since being picked on myself in elementary school during bus rides. Mia grabbed her friends and sat them down around her like worker bees around the queen. Sunnie sat at the far end of the wagon, I see now, so that she could conveniently ignore what was going on. Ava tried to sit with the other girls but was scathingly repelled away by Mia. The wagon was packed and on the verge of moving, so it was too late to change seats. I told Mia to cool it and she did - for about 2 minutes.

The endless hay wagon ride took us around a working farm and showed us practically every detail of how a farm works. If Mia and a group of other little girls hadn't been whispering, pointing, and jostling each other while looking at my daughter the whole time, we would have greatly enjoyed it. But my stomach tightened more with each passing minute. Ava loudly informed Mia that if she was going to be so mean, she didn't want to play with her anyway. Then Ava set about trying to ignore Mia while I reproached Mia for her behavior every few minutes.

Finally, the wagon ride from hell ended, and we all got off. I went immediately to Sunnie and told her our girls weren't getting along and to please keep Mia away from Ava and I would do the same. Sunnie said, "Yes I know" in a way that made me realize she had known all along.

Poor Ava was so stressed that she went off and sat by herself during lunch, even refusing to let me come sit with her. She ate her sandwich and buried her nose in a book. I was so relieved when it was finally time to get in the car and go home. Out of my rear view mirror, I saw Sunnie glance my way, make a pointing gesture, and whisper in the ear of another mom. It was pathetic, seeing two grown women whisper just like two second graders on the playground whispering about a third girl... just like Sunnie's 8 year old daughter had just done to my daughter. Things don't change much over the years with many of the bullies; they just become bigger bullies as they get older.

In the car ride on the way home from the field trip, Ava cried most of the way. I had to pull over and comfort her twice. She said, "Mommy, I think we are going to have to find some new friends," and I was so glad she saw that for herself. I knew she was right, but since I'm a grown-up, I tried one more time to correspond with Sunnie and see if there was any ironing out that could be done.

In response to my e-mail, Sunnie unleashed a torrent of irrational hate and rage that she had clearly been building up for a while. It was also clear that it really had nothing to do with me or my daughter. I can see now that Sunnie has some serious emotional problems that she needs a good therapist for. Instead, though, Sunnie projects her own problems onto other people. That's the scary thing about bullies... many of them only grow up into bigger and meaner bullies in adult bodies with the minds of spoiled children and hearts of hatred for anyone they perceive to be in their way.

I chose to continue the email conversation with Sunnie knowing it would be a good idea to have in writing what transpired in case I ever have to account for what happened for any reason. Despite Sunnie's excessively irrational and hostile responses, I continued to try and advocate for mediation and peaceful co-existence. Sunnie wouldn't hear of it. Each email she sent me in response to my attempts to make sense of the situation was increasingly hateful. In response to my sharing how badly Mia had hurt Ava with her cruel behavior, I was told that I'm an irresponsible parent, that my child is aggressive and will never make friends until I discipline her, that it's not her problem if my kid can't make friends, and that I need to train my child up in the ways of the Lord. I was mind-blown that another parent would be so hateful toward a child. I know Ava isn't perfect and has her own growing up to do. But that doesn't excuse an adult's hateful attitude toward her.

Bullies always work in numbers. Sunnie informed me of other moms who had teamed up with her to gossip about me and my child and wanted us out of the play group. I really don't know how many moms really are on her side, or whether it's just Sunnie and one of her best buddies, who was also openly unkind. But, being in a group with only one or two bullies is like drinking out of a punch bowl that someone has pissed in. It may be only 10% piss and 90% punch, but even so, who wants to drink out of it?

So rather than try to fight for our right to stay in the group, we left. We could have stayed and fought. I could have sent a letter to the president of the group detailing what really happened, along with forwarding Sunnie's hateful emails to me. The president surely would have tried to "mediate." In a Christian homeschool group, this typically means pretend to forgive each other and paste a couple of Bible-verse band-aids over the gashes.

And then there is the same sad dynamic that I was the victim of in grade school. One of the world's ugly truths is, that female bullies always have a lot of friends. In sixth grade, two girls that daily made my life a living hell were among the most popular girls in the sixth grade. They each had about three dozen friends; I had exactly two. Being an introvert and not being able to navigate groups well, I've never had a lot of friends.

Roll the clock forward 30 years and I'm looking at the same situation. Sunnie has lots of friends in the homeschool group; it doesn't matter that just under the surface she's a raving nutcase. She's talkative, outgoing, and aggressive. In our culture, these qualities count for far more than being quiet, compassionate, and non-aggressive. I don't have anywhere near the social clout that Sunnie does and at this point have no idea if anyone in the group is really a friend at all. Considering the fact that we've been away all fall and no one has inquired after me, I'd say there's not much there to lean on. I'd try going back if I knew there was even one person there who I know would have my back and my daughter's. But I don't know that. And I don't feel it would be wise to re-expose my daughter to a situation where the deck is so heavily stacked against her.

I had already tried to "mediate" with Sunnie and had received some "correct Christian" responses mixed in with the hostility. She did have Mia write Ava a short note apologizing for her behavior on the field trip because it was the "correct" thing to do. Sunnie also suggested I bring Ava back to the play group and leave after a short time so that Ava wouldn't get into any "trouble." That way, she could tell the other moms, "I tried to do the Christian thing and invite them back, but Ava's mom said she didn't want to come back." (gee I wonder why?! after blasting me, blasting my child, calling me an irresponsible parent, beating me up with religion...)

An important side note here: passive-aggressive bullies can be more dangerous than outright bullies. The trouble with trying to iron out problems with crazy people is their cunning attempt to make you look like the troublemaker and themselves look like the one who was trying to work things out.

So I decided for my daughter's sake that we will take a year off from any sort of homeschool group participation and then re-evaluate what to do. I know if we went back now, it would be unfair to Ava. Sunnie especially, possibly her buddy who has also sided against us, and whoever else they might have swayed to their side of the story would be there waiting like hunters with loaded guns. And my daughter and I would be like ducks during open season. Because people like Sunnie don't want to forgive, mediate, work things out or make peace. They want to fight and attack. This is baffling for laid-back peacemakers like myself, one who doesn't enjoy confrontation even when it's necessary. The Sunnies of the world are jazzed by confrontation, fighting, and running over anybody who gets in their way. Again, the little bullies in 2nd grade become the bigger bullies in 7th grade and then the mean-spirited adults who will even attack a little child for the sake of protecting their own agenda any time they feel their "queen bee" status is threatened.

I have been reading an interesting website called "The Bully Project." I see dozens of parents on their facebook page complaining about their children being bullied at school every day. I sympathize with these parents, remembering my days as a kid in school, where I endured more than my fair share of bullying.

My memories of being bullied at school, and the trauma it caused as well as the scars I bear to this day, are among the main reasons I decided to homeschool my own child. But, the Christian homeschool world, so proud of itself for being "above" all the "heathen activity" that goes on in regular school, has its own share of bullies. (Let me make it clear that I have never homeschooled for religious reasons). I have endured more unkind treatment in the name of God than I ever did before starting to homeschool.

Christian homeschoolers have their own unique brand of bullying. Instead of just admittedly being jerks, they do their bullying in Jesus' name. (we need to set a good example for our children, we need to make sure we don't ruin our witness). They feel justified in excluding children and adults who they believe don't measure up to their religious standards (such as having an outlandish haircut, wearing shorts that are too short, using even slightly colorful language, or playing too boisterously). It's sort of ass-backward - the ones who are often lauded as 'cool' in regular school are more likely to be bullied in the homeschool group.

So where does that leave the ordinary kids and parents? We wanted to homeschool, one reason hoping we'd find some other nice people who had pulled their kids out of school because of bullying and other issues (and, to be fair, we have met a few nice people over the years like this, though unfortunately none we have become close to). But unfortunately there have also been the times we have met the religious bullies - using the Bible and Jesus' name as a weapon - clubbing people like me and my daughter for being ordinary. Crazy.

Anti-bullying people hope to see a day when bullying has been addressed and controlled, hopefully eliminated. Parents want their gay child, their overweight child, their shy child, their mentally challenged child will be accepted and supported by students, teachers, faculty, and other parents in school.

I commend their vision and support it. And I will add to that, that I hope to see a day when homeschooling parents who have ordinary children, that are not from uber-religious backgrounds, that may be loud and boisterous and imperfect, and might even have a weird haircut, colorful speech, or (gasp!) be gay, will be accepted and supported by homeschool groups all over the country.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Why I Broke Up with God

In attempt to explain my journey, I'll continue to put thoughts down in writing as I can find clarity. To tell the truth, I don't really have a lot of clarity. But, that's part of why I'm writing, to try and find some.

One might ask, why would anyone leave Christianity? Especially since you've been taught that 1. Jesus is the only way and 2. if you don't have his insurance coverage, you will burn in hell forever. Why would anyone who has been taught these things leave the religion? Leave that God?

Well, to try and answer... because I was tired. Tired of being afraid all the time, tired of being stressed. Tired of wondering, am I saved or not? Is God mad at me? I've still got so many sins, is he disgusted? What does he see when he looks at me? If he's a father, which the bible makes clear he is, it can't be very good.

I was tired of being confused. So many denominations, so many opposing points of view... sometimes, viciously opposed to one another. The Baptists think the Catholics are going to hell (hell, nearly all the denominations think the Catholics are going to hell, because the bible says yada yada). The Church of Christ thinks everyone but them is going to hell. So much division, so much strife, so much flaming each other. The fact that Christians can't agree with each other on the truth leaves me wondering if the truth they all claim to have can even be found.

Then there is the Bible itself. Why would a God who loves us give us such a book? Confusing, self-contradictory. Full of images of a god who approves homocide, genocide, bigotry, rape, and the killing of little children. Who got so disappointed with the people he put here on earth that one day he decided to drown them all. Then, something about Jesus came and "paid the price" for our sins so we don't have to. We've all heard the same stories over and over. In a number of different translations, none of which are accurate, except of course the King James, which coincidentally is the most difficult to understand and the most annoying to read.

Some people love reading the bible, I know. I tried, I really did. I used to sit there in tears trying to understand. One page of encouraging thoughts, then a page of "you're screwed, God is gonna kick your ass." Is God like a mafia godfather, or maybe seriously bi-polar? I just didn't have what it took to study it, understand it, be encouraged by it, or find a god of love in it. I tried and tried, but couldn't. Maybe a few moments here and there... but oh, so much pain and fear and stress overwhelmed what few good moments there were. I ended up deciding it wasn't worth it. If this god really loved us so much, why did he give us a book that was supposedly all-important but only some could understand and see the beauty in it? Of course, the bible is full of reasons why... because only the Elect would understand, because "only my sheep would hear my voice," as Jesus said. Well I tried and tried. Maybe I heard his voice a few times... maybe I got tired of trying... maybe I wasn't sure when it was really him... maybe I got frustrated beyond what I could bear at all the times I tried to hear him and didn't.

There was, of course, my Free Believer era. For a while, I found Wayne Jacobson, Jim Palmer, Jim Robbins and Darin Hufford's teachings to be really amazing and encouraging. Wow, there really was a loving god after all! There was better news! As DH so passionately taught, God had just been misunderstood, that's all! We just needed to get a right understanding of God and then everything would be headed in the right direction. Healing would take place, real spiritual growth would start. Sound good?

For a while, it seemed that finally, I would actually make it as a Christian. Maybe I wasn't a total failure after all. There was an absolutely wonderful season when I connected with other people who were also sick of institutional, traditional church and were looking for others to journey with, and discover this God of love. We had great talks about all sorts of spiritual topics. We connected. It was great. But, it didn't last. If this God of love is so powerful and real, and lives and breathes in and all around us, and is so big on us "loving one another," why doesn't connection with others ever last?

It seems that no matter how wonderful things start out, sooner or later, every single group is going to disintegrate because of people's personal ambition. It's the American way I guess, that personal ambition ALWAYS must take the lead and be the bottom line. And personal relationships are, in the end, only the means to an end... or jettisoned if they do not help the ambitious person get where they want to go.

In the end, despite my earnest efforts for things to stay true, I ended up watching nearly all of those relationships disintegrate or just disappear out of my life. I watched, once again, as the strong, the beautiful, the ambitious, climbed the backsides of the weak and the struggling, or shuffled over them unnoticed as they ran to get what they were after. A bigger ministry, more notoriety, more book sales, a bigger blog or facebook following, more subscribers to their website, more contacts that could get them somewhere. I watched this happen in more than one place. What are these stories anyway, about some guy named Jesus who lived 2000 years ago who supposedly loved the absolute skid-row losers and thought they were worth giving his life to?

At this point I have come to believe that Jesus must have been an impressive person, but I can't quite get a feel for what he might have really been like. I haven't experienced anything impressive, that ever lasted, in my lifetime here on earth, by those who claim to know Jesus. Maybe he was a really great guy but I fail to quite buy this story that he and he alone was God, and that Christians have some special edge on love, kindness and compassion that other people don't, because they and only they have some special download of the Holy Spirit living somewhere inside of their heart. Overall I have not seen or experienced evidence to support this claim.

Are Christians terrible people? Some are, but overall I don't see that they're better or worse than anyone who is atheist, agnostic, whatever. To be fair, I haven't known enough non-Christians in my lifetime to make a fair, objective numerical comparison. Here in the Bible belt nearly everyone at least claims to be a Christian. But with what exposure I've had to non-Christians, and yes online contacts count, I just don't see any real difference overall.

This is where the typical "Christians aren't perfect, just forgiven" excuses come in. It's true we're all human. And for the sake of argument I'll concede the point that, according to their religion, Christians are the only ones who are forgiven for being human. But, this still doesn't erase the fact that there is a glaring discrepancy between the patient, compassionate, abiding love that is taught and that which is actually practiced. Churches sometimes acknowledge this and push their flocks to try harder (run faster, do more for the church, get along with the difficult people around them better). But, is trying harder the answer? All I'm saying is I just don't think people are any more capable of being loving as Christians than they are as non-Christians.

Maybe I'd see things differently in a different culture. But in the western society I live in, Christian usually means ambitious rather than humble. It means aggressive rather than co-operative. It means self-actualization rather than community. I feel like there's nothing but Jesus-flavored everything. Like chicken flavored soup, it's a substitute. I know it's not real chicken, but I struggle to remember what real chicken tastes like because it's hard to find. I just know it's not in this soup.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Religion: The Great Division

I made the mistake of confiding my current depression to a religious friend. Since this friend is male, much older than me and generally given to minding his own business, I thought it would be a safe thing to do. When will I ever learn you can't talk to religious people like they're normal people? For that matter, when will I ever learn that I can't talk to anybody and expect them to understand or at least be sympathetic and admit they don't understand, unless they're weird in most or all of the same ways I'm weird?

The assumptions are presumably well meaning, but forever tiresome and frustrating.
If you're depressed, it's because you don't go to a 'real church.' You need to find a 'real' Bible believing church.
If you're having any sort of trouble with your kids, it's because you homeschool and you need to put them in school.
If you're lonely, it's because you live in the country. Move back to the city.
It's so much easier to give pat answers than to actually get to know a person and try to understand them and what's really going on with them.

But anyway... the sadness over having my friend judge that certainly, my depression is at least in part due to the fact that I don't go to a 'real church' is frightening at this point. Will I continue to lose friends and friendly relationships everywhere until there is literally nothing left? Will each person in my life, and my kids' lives, eventually take offense at the fact that I go to a flaky church and don't get into their conventional doctrine? Will I continue to watch friends turn out not to be friends because of religious differences?

I can hang out with a traditional church-goer and take no offense that they're not a free believer, an agnostic, a pantheist, or any other spiritual path that I find more open-minded and freeing. I have, at their request, attended their church meetings and found myself cringing at some of the awful lies that are preached in Jesus' name. But, I don't hold it against them personally and have always tried to continue the friendly relationship with the person. THEY have always been the one to end the friendship. They take offense when I don't agree with their doctrine, their church, or their religious beliefs. Even if I never say one word to them about it. Somehow they know... and get angry... and offended.

Remember that old song about how they will know we are Christians, by our love, by our love? Bullshit. Someone should re-write that whole song. They will know we are Christians by how easily offended we get, by how fast we are to dump you if you don't square up to our standards, by how we'll lie and say we love you but we don't have a fat clue what true love really is.

They prove their god is untrustworthy and downright false because they never do love and just let their god stand up for himself and reveal himself to someone in need. Their frantic, rabid, aggressive evangelical tactics show just how untrustworthy they believe their god really is.

How sad it will make me if I lose this older male friend. I'll call him Bill. Referring to the post previous to this one, "roads," it seems the Universe is going to make sure I learn that I will never have a father figure taking care of me. Not outside of the resources inside of myself. I've felt such powerful love for Bill at times, been so grateful for him. Felt like I've gotten tastes of what it might have been like to have a father who loved me. I should have known it wouldn't last.

I hate religion. I hate it. I hate it for what it's done to me, to my family, to most of my friendships. To the human race at large.

You may say I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us. And the world will be as one.


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel both And be one traveller, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth... ~Robert Frost, "The Road Not Taken."

I held out as long as I could. I really did. And one day I ran out of will to push my way down the road that was blocked and tangled in undergrowth. Instead, I went down another. I lost my belief in a personal God, I lost the ability and desire to keep trying to believe in a heavenly Father who arranged my life according to his personal love and devotion to me.

I can still remember being a teenager following men around at church. I developed attachments to several older men - my Sunday school teacher, my 'church membership sponsor,' a couple of other men old enough to be my father. I was like a puppy wagging my tail hoping I'd get a biscuit. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn't. For reasons I did not fully understand and still don't, I kept getting up and wagging my tail again even after being pushed aside by a callous foot. The perpetual craving of women to be seen, to be cherished by men. Her father. Her brother. Her lover. Anyone will do. I've seen it time and time again, in myself and in others.

Supposedly, the answer to this lies in Christianity. The God who gave us this craving for a Father's and a Brother's love is found through Jesus leading us back to the Father. We once were lost and now we're found, Daddy loves you, yada yada. For some perverse reason God gave us fathers and brothers just to show us how badly we could be hurt when we naturally looked to them for love, affection, approval. So even though you still have that longing for love from these people God set up just to tease you with, learn not to fall for the tricks He's set up for you to fall for, and turn to Him instead.

Makes perfect sense.

I thought I was making progress a few years ago in freebelievers. I can still remember the time someone gave me a kiss on the forehead. I remember the time someone else gave me a hand squeeze and a light platonic kiss on the cheek, like a dearly loved father or uncle might. I remember ages ago as a teenager, sitting with another eating peanut butter crackers and drinking Coke in the moonlight. And once many years ago, my own earthly brother and I being friends. The time he held my hand helping me walk across a meadow in the dark. Those few treasured moments of a lifetime, just little glimpses of what it might have been like to be


cared for...protected...

someone's sister, beautiful, treasured, seen...

until they all turn away and walk away. It was just a temporary thing. Not a foundation, not a resting place. Just a dog biscuit. A little snack to make me want more... a lifetime of going back to eat, and be filled.

Again, the Christian solution is to turn to God. Because even though Jesus said something about how the world will know you are my disciples (loving one another) this apparently was just for aesthetics. Today's Christian motto is to be sure not to look to other people, but to turn to God himself. Even though supposedly God himself indwells man and we were to manifest His spirit by our love for one another. (just WHEN did this "don't look to others, look to God" shit get so widely accepted in Christiandom?! is God still in the sky somewhere looking down with a sad face or is he to be found in the human heart??)

So anyway. I finally realized that personally understanding and living the reality of being loved by a brother or father, either earthly or heavenly, is not going to happen for me and it's time to let it go and walk away.

What will such an unknown road hold? A road where I am no longer looking to other people to get my needs met, nor to a probably non-existent male deity who is supposedly all that a human male is, good and bad, just inflated to cosmic proportions? What will a new road hold... one where I consider that I am part of the Universe, and therefore have all the answers I need already downloaded somewhere inside of me? That I don't have to 'try' and connect with others or the Universe, but I already AM connected?

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Mixed feelings

Being a parent is different for introverts, I think. We tend to love our kids so intensely, yet we find parenting them more exhausting and often feel we have less to give. We have more desire to give our whole being to them and yet less capacity to do so than an extrovert. It's been one of my own personal dichotomies.

Now that my oldest son has moved out of the house, I am sad not seeing his face. I think of his expressive hazel eyes and his grin when he's happy. I miss the hugs he used to give me. I wonder will things every be made right again and I wish so much he and I could have a relationship that was abiding and loving.

Yet, there's another part of me that's relieved he is gone. The house has gotten a lot quieter since he left. The constant drama of his intense emotions is no longer in the house. It was like having a rubber band that was usually pulled as tight as it would go, that has finally relaxed and is resting. (Why does God seem to get pleasure in pairing these dynamite-infused kids with laid-back introvert parents who rarely get a moment's peace?)

And there's still another part of me that is ashamed for feeling relief. The part of me that thinks that I should be, well, more like an extrovert. That teen drama shouldn't drive me crazy and I should have had more to give so he wouldn't have left the way he did. The part that says I should have been able to zealously burn the candle at both ends, to get along better with the raving extrovert family that he now lives with, that should have been able to go along with it all. That his dad and I should't be so boring so that he would have stayed here with us instead.

Do introvert parents truly hold any value to extrovert children? The question of the day that I don't know the answer to right now.