I give up

I've decided.

I'm switching back to Wordpress. I'm not sure why when I changed, why I went back to blogger. But I hate it. It gives me gas.

I will post my new address here so there should be little confusion to finding me... CR...

justbecause81.wordpress.com

F*$# A&$holes

I borrow friends' cars when they go out of town. I have done this many, many times. I use the cars to go do laundry, go to the grocery store, commute, go to church, get around faster.

Well.

I no longer have the most recent car I borrowed. I had it for a day and a half.

Thank you, assholes, for stealing from a borrowed car. There is no way you could have known. Next time you break a window though, try not to get any glass on the car seat meant to hold an 18 month old child. It was very inconvenient to me to not be able to pick him up. Also, try not to break any windows on days that call for rain. It's a rather shitty thing of you to do. Let me know next time you plan on stealing from me. I'd prefer to just leave the door open so that you don't feel the need to break the window.

God, G-d, Father, Mother, Yahweh, Allah, Whatever

I have hesitated on writing about God (or my version of God) because... well, what if I got it wrong? What if God really was/is one of us? Just a stranger on a bus? What if Joan Armstrong was right? Or what if I was right? Plus, what if I would be ridiculed by atheists everywhere? I really do care what everyone thinks. I have a no discrimination policy regarding my insecurities.

The thing is, I'm not sure what I believe. God and I have had a tenuous (SAT word!) relationship at best. The reality is that most of the time I call God a he and that irks me. God is not a maternal figure for me, even though I do recognize the maternal characteristics of God. And I know, I know that God is not male or female or human for that matter, but God is still this Father Time, old man, skinny Santa Clause image in my mind. The Holy Spirit image for me is much more soothing, maybe because of the confusing nature of what exactly the Holy Spirit is (or is imagined to be) - nebulous air? wind? breath? whatever?

I like the God of the Old Testament not because I like everything God does in the Old Testament - I mean, really, God does a lot of shitty things in the Old Testament and just comes off as a mean tempered, violent and without reason. The God of the New Testament reminds me of a Bill Cosby joke about why grandparents are so much nicer to their grandchildren than their children- they are just old people trying to get into heaven now. SO, the reason I like the God of the OT is because he is fallible. Yes! God makes mistakes! Some will disagree with me on this point, but that's ok. God loses his temper and throws fits and makes poor Job suffer for apparently no reason. He comes up with plenty of excuses for doing the things he does but still God could be a lot nicer - and he isn't.

God does not make a very strong impression in the New Testament as Jesus seems to become the main character there. So who is this God we all profess to believe in as Christians? Just the father of Jesus, the main character? Or is God more than that?

I think Joan Armstrong is right and wrong... God is the stranger on the bus, and me and you and the air in between. God created all and is all. Can God evolve? Yes. Can God grow? Yes. Can God change? Yes. Is God within, without and beyond? Absolutely.

Who is God? I don't know but I'll let you know if I ever find him/her/me/us.

Note: I am not writing a review on the second book that I read of my summer reading list, "The Changing Face of God". It is a compilation of essays on God and it is good, light reading, good for reflection and an introduction to several, more liberal theologians' views on God. If anyone is interested in it, I'll ship the book to you for free via media mail. Just email me your address to justbecause81 (at) gmail (dot) com.

Book Review: Contemplative Prayer by Thomas Merton

Thomas Merton was a Trappist monk of the Abbey of our Lady of Gethsemani in Kentucky. He was a prolific writer, who wrote about spirituality and was interested in inter-religious dialogue. I picked up this book because of my constant pursuit of the perfect way to pray.

Merton begins the book stating clearly that this book is intended for monks. He does not deny that this book can be useful for laity but the intended audience of the book are people in religious orders. Merton comes across as a bit crotchety in this book as if he were scolding all of us and our intentions when we pray. He states that there is no method or system for prayer - it is an attitude or outlook. He says "Meditation has no point and no reality unless it is firmly rooted in life." (p.59) He also differentiates between private and public prayer though he says that both can feed into each other.

Part of my interest in reading what monks and nuns think about prayer is the idea that they have these organized lives organized devotion to God and organized prayer times and the idea that all of these things require a separation from the world or the "worldly". But Merton says that prayer should not take us out the world but more firmly root us in it - it should connect us more to those around us and make us more aware.

Prayer does not blind us to the world, but it transforms our vision of the world, and makes us see it, all men, and all the history of mankind, in the light of God.

I enjoyed this book, particularly a mention at the end on the danger of religion when let it be superficial and dependent on political ideals. Merton describes very well back in the 1960s what is occurring today with the current administration.

Some of the chapters are boring as Merton goes through some prayer history in terms of the Benedictine tradition of prayer. However, this book is very accessible. This is not a systematic how to pray book but Merton has some very clear ideas of what constitutes sincere prayer. It also seems to be a very honest book of Merton's personality. I think I would have enjoyed getting to know him, scolding and all.

Six Year Non-iversary

As June 1st approached I was confronted daily with thoughts of my failure. My failure as a wife. June 1st is - well, was my wedding anniversary.

I was a lovely bride. I wore a stunning gown. I wish I could wear it again. (But it would be tacky to wear it again - right?) My husband was a lovely groom. We were a lovely couple.

And we failed.

I was a horrible wife. Compromise does not sit well with me. Monogamy also did not sit well with me. I was not a happy wife. I was not promiscuous. I did not sleep around. But I was not faithful. So I failed.

My husband failed in his own way but it is not my place to display for all of you what his failures were. He, despite them, is a good man - just not the right man for me. And I was not a good wife for him.

Marriage still terrifies me, especially after my three year failure. Divorce is legally easy with no children and no assets. Emotionally, it can be hell. I have moved on. I stopped loving my husband that way long before we separated. I know it was the best thing for us. He is dating now. I am a mother now. We have moved on.

But I still feel like a failure. I know I will try not to make the same mistakes if I ever chose to get married again. I know myself better and what I want (and need). I understand monogamy now and prefer it. I have a child now so my priorities have changed.

But what still hits me every year is the sense of failure.

Confession whether in the Roman Catholic church or any church has more to do with the confessing person's ability to forgive themselves or forgive others rather than the idea that we need God's forgiveness. I wish to ask my forgiveness - for not loving him enough and marrying him anyway. For yelling, not forgiving -and giving up. For cheating rather than confronting what I felt we lacked. For my sense of entitlement and my self-righteousness. For eventually not caring and being afraid to end it when it really stopped working. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me.

This week, Tomas had his first taste of real blueberries - well, frozen ones but blueberries not in a muffin or in yogurt but just plain blueberries. This was the result:

A lovely blueberry smile.

Blueberry fingers.

My friend's floor got a bit dirty despite the plate. We tried.

Look, Mom! Look what I did!!

I keep trying to figure out how to teach my son to say "You pay now, bitch!!"