Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Trusting What I Can't See

"A committe of one in my head is never a good thing."

Words of wisdom from my home group AA meeting this morning.
Words I would have done well to heed last night when we had a freak winter thunderstorm. What is that saying? God gives grace for the situation not the imagination. My imagination was running wild last night. Wild. This is what the committee of one sounded like in my head:

Wow. Those trees are swirling way too fast. Surely one is going to crash right on top of the trailer and trap me. I just know it.

Hmmm. If a tree crashes down on top of the trailer and traps me I'd better have a phone handy. Which will it be? The cordless or the cell phone?

I go to my purse and get out my cell phone. A phone I don't even know the number to because I never call it. I open my purse and see a pack of gum. If I'm going to be trapped I might need some sustenance. I pop a piece of gum in my mouth and go watch the trees.

"Wait. Why am I watching the trees on the side of the house trailer where, if they fall, will never hit me? Why aren't I watching on the side that poses real danger. At least then I can see the tree before it hits me."

The energizer bunny is whining at my feet. I look at her and think to myself, "Shut up. Don't dogs start acting crazy right before a disaster happens?"

I stand at the window and tell God I'll have to trust he has angels standing guard to protect me. Could he please make them superman angels? The kind that can stop a 60 foot falling tree in mid air? Thank you. I can hear trees breaking and crashing in the bush as I pray, but I can't see them.

Next I ask myself what will I regret about my day if a tree does crash through the roof and I am trapped. I think about the local volunteer firefighters and how some of them come from pretty gossipy homes. A shower. That's what I'll regret. Right. I will regret it because they'll see what I look like with bedhead at 5 in the afternoon. That will give the gossip mongers something to talk about. After all, it's all about me, you know. The lights start flickering on and off as I hop in the shower. I hope the power stays on long enough for me to wash my hair. I chew my gum right through lathering and rinsing my hair. That's one way to remember to chew with my mouth closed.

I get out of the shower and blow dry my hair. I am prepared now. My cell phone is right by my side. I get dressed and still feel cold. That's when I realize that the wind's so strong that it's whistled down the chimney and blown the pilot light out on the furnace. I pull the cover off the furnace and get out the matches to relight the pilot light. I think I can smell gas. I read the instructions on the furnace. In big letters it says not to light a thing if you can smell gas. Great. If I try to light the pilot light I will blow the trailer up, swaying trees be damned. I put the matches away and go find the portable electric heater.

It's dark out now so I can't see the trees swaying.
I can only hear them.
How am I supposed to prepare for impending disaster in the dark?

Guess I'll have to trust what I can't see coming.

Which pretty well sums up life as we know it.

Once I can't see what might befall me, the drama in my head fades and I adopt a "Que Sera, Sera" attitude. I go to the kitchen and make myself a sandwich. I let the energizer bunny jump up on the recliner beside me and we spend the rest of the evening watching TV. The wind is still blowing and the trees are still swaying. Eventually dearest one gets home and lights the pilot light. We fall asleep to gusts of wind and crashing trees and we wake to more of the same. I drive over branches as I make my way to my meeting this morning.

I sit and listen in the meeting and hear exactly what I need to hear.
A committee of one in my head is never a good thing.
Gotta have a crowd if a tree is going to get you.


Thursday, September 25, 2008

Hanging On For The Ride

"Why would God allow such suffering?" I was 15 years old when I made that statement and my grandpa had just been diagnosed with cancer. My mom dealt with her grief by upping her drinking and I decided God wasn't worth believing in. By the time I was in grade 12 I'd already had a few bitchy discussions with friends of faith and mocked anyone who believed in God.

My eventual turning towards God was a gradual process. I went from atheist to believing there was a God the summer I was a newlywed, and from there to surrending to God a few months after I sobered up 6 years later. It's been a sometimes wild ride since. I've joked with only daughter that it's a wonder she and her brothers don't have spiritual whiplash for all the fast curves we've been around as her dad and I explored different tangents in our faith journey.

Reading this post yesterday brought me back just over 4 years ago when dearest one's brother died. I have a picture of some artist's rendition of Jesus (I've heard it described as a Californian Jesus, no offense to Californians) At that time I spent many early mornings sitting in the darkness with only a candle lit to illuminate Jesus's face. I still don't have an answer to why God allows suffering. I do believe God doesn't cause it.

The morning dearest one's brother died I stood before that picture of Jesus, with tears streaming down my face, and found myself at a turning point. Either God was a good God or He wasn't. Either He was a God to be trusted in no matter what life threw my way or He wasn't. It felt like my heart was being ripped right out of me to surrender to a God who would allow such tragedy to happen. But,by His grace, I did. And ever since then I've had a deep knowing that no matter what life throws at me I do not go through it alone. I believe that Jesus hunkers down beside me. I know that I will be okay even in the worst of life's circumstances. Yes, I sometimes lose sight of this belief. I'm only human. But when I get really still there's still that deep knowing of how temporary this all this and that I will be okay. Even when Jesus masquerades as being from California.