Spring has not technically sprung, but some gigantic clock in the sky has, so bring on the sunlight and oven-bake our main room as I ponder the meaning of "it" and a bag of "all" chips.
We have weathered the time change via a nasty cold. Oddly convenient timing, since it both wrecks naps and makes for earlier bedtimes... which usually makes for earlier wakings which... the cycle is ongoing. We may need a few more DSTs to hop into the mix at this rate!!
Meanwhile, I can no longer distinguish cold symptoms from reflux from lord knows whatever other things are wrong with me. So far, we're pretty sure it's not brain cancer or MS (likely not testicular cancer or gout either). I had a lovely little MRI to just try out that theory. Loud banging and atonal sounds felt a lot like modern music to me, and all in all a superior experience than accupuncture. I have a million things potentially wrong with me still waiting to be unraveled, but whatever. Time will out... something... maybe. In the meantime, I'll take the luxury of having something as banal as "a nasty cold." Boy is it a wringer. Probably would be less so if, say, the little snot monster didn't greet the dawn with forty minutes of howling. Interspersed with gleeful energy interspersed with yet more meltdowns over the presence of snot in every possible pore and orifice as the day goes on.
I'm a little spent, emotionally and physically, but a wee bit in a Lenten wonder as well.
Forgive me as I get all sacerdotal on y'all.
“Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them. —Mark 10:13-16
I so often hear of God being cast in the parental role. This always has me wondering (the more and more I inhabit said parental role): Does God the Father/Mother really feel like parents do? Constantly frustrated, confused, sometimes annoyed, scared, guiltily impatient and yet amused at the illogical oddities of creation? Unsure and tired? Checking her watch and wondering how anything is going to get done today? So totally unsure. But somehow instinctively doing the right things when the moments call and discovering along the way that despite it all, things are as they should be and creation somehow thrives? Is god breathless in awe of what we are? Humbled by our faith? Radiating a love beyond God's own comprehension?
We have weathered the time change via a nasty cold. Oddly convenient timing, since it both wrecks naps and makes for earlier bedtimes... which usually makes for earlier wakings which... the cycle is ongoing. We may need a few more DSTs to hop into the mix at this rate!!
Meanwhile, I can no longer distinguish cold symptoms from reflux from lord knows whatever other things are wrong with me. So far, we're pretty sure it's not brain cancer or MS (likely not testicular cancer or gout either). I had a lovely little MRI to just try out that theory. Loud banging and atonal sounds felt a lot like modern music to me, and all in all a superior experience than accupuncture. I have a million things potentially wrong with me still waiting to be unraveled, but whatever. Time will out... something... maybe. In the meantime, I'll take the luxury of having something as banal as "a nasty cold." Boy is it a wringer. Probably would be less so if, say, the little snot monster didn't greet the dawn with forty minutes of howling. Interspersed with gleeful energy interspersed with yet more meltdowns over the presence of snot in every possible pore and orifice as the day goes on.
I'm a little spent, emotionally and physically, but a wee bit in a Lenten wonder as well.
Forgive me as I get all sacerdotal on y'all.
“Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them. —Mark 10:13-16
I so often hear of God being cast in the parental role. This always has me wondering (the more and more I inhabit said parental role): Does God the Father/Mother really feel like parents do? Constantly frustrated, confused, sometimes annoyed, scared, guiltily impatient and yet amused at the illogical oddities of creation? Unsure and tired? Checking her watch and wondering how anything is going to get done today? So totally unsure. But somehow instinctively doing the right things when the moments call and discovering along the way that despite it all, things are as they should be and creation somehow thrives? Is god breathless in awe of what we are? Humbled by our faith? Radiating a love beyond God's own comprehension?
I can't really say. But I can ask whether we are true children of God. Do we have a secure attachment in God? No matter how many times I feel distracted, semi-present, or just no fun, Chaya still lights up and giggles at me, demands to be held without ever questioning her right to do so (no matter that some days my response is to cringe and look deflated because I REALLY REALLY need to get something done and my back is sore and...). She lets me leave, knowing with certainty that I will return. She rails against the world in my arms despite my complicity in its inequities. And she never ever doubts that she is LOVED. Ever. Her faith truly stuns me, as I have no inkling of how I have earned such attachment. I am middling. I have no special tricks. I lack Mary Poppins' magic. I'm so often unappreciative and so often flawed.
She doesn't hesitate ever to show her deepest expressions. I can't imagine letting loose the howls and recrimination that storm inside of me on a bad day... not with another person. For their sake, I refrain, but also through pride. To have somebody see me in such a weak and disheveled state makes me a little queasy.
The way that she howls and sobs in my arms, stares at me with her snotty face and quivering eyes and simply shrieks. Somehow feeling I need to be there, but asking nothing beyond that, except occasionally to be held. Not assuming I can make it better. But also not hesitating to worry that I see ugliness in her sadness. Never considering that I might look away or fail to respond. She lets herself be so honest in such an unimaginable way.
Despite my human frailties - my boredoms, my uneasiness, my occasional blundering - she doesn't doubt that I am present and always will be. She believes - she knows - it is her place in this world to be loved and to be held and to feel unabashed affection. She knows to never hesitate to demand the attention and love that she requires. It isn't a naive untested faith she has. I am constantly getting things wrong in her little world of Chaya order and she knows this. Sometimes I bring the wrong book and it is devastating. Sometimes, I say the wrong thing. Sometimes I am simply helpless as a discomfort in her own world or mood exceeds my hands. Sometimes I stop her from doing something or force her to do something she dislikes. And she is not shy about expressing her disapproval. But it doesn't change the love, the confidence, or the faith.
It makes me think if I could have one modicum of that faith and entitlement that she places in me (in my love and presence), perhaps I truly would be in the kingdom of God at this very moment.
And I think of all the ways in which we doggedly and dogmatically angst over our un/worthiness. How preposterous a question to ask whether Chaya is "worthy" of my love! She laughs at the thought and so do I. She is my love. It is not a question of subject-object intermediated by qualitative anything. But the sheer embodiment of love within me. There is no question. No contingencies. No quantity or quality. Merely love. And I think then are we not also beyond that question of worth. Neither worthy nor unworthy, but simply God's LOVE. And I wonder if we were able to believe that wholeheartedly, unabashedly, without reservation, wouldn't we then be in heaven?
I can't say whether "God" is like a parent, but I think there is so much more to being God's child than people frame it as. This is never about fealty or obedience. But something so much deeper and more staggering.
And I hope, very much that on the days that I emotionally collapse on the floor, God/the universe/and everything can give a sigh, check its watch and maybe sit with me knowing that somehow in all the mess, I do actually have that same sense of entitlement and faith. Somewhere in there.
The way that she howls and sobs in my arms, stares at me with her snotty face and quivering eyes and simply shrieks. Somehow feeling I need to be there, but asking nothing beyond that, except occasionally to be held. Not assuming I can make it better. But also not hesitating to worry that I see ugliness in her sadness. Never considering that I might look away or fail to respond. She lets herself be so honest in such an unimaginable way.
Despite my human frailties - my boredoms, my uneasiness, my occasional blundering - she doesn't doubt that I am present and always will be. She believes - she knows - it is her place in this world to be loved and to be held and to feel unabashed affection. She knows to never hesitate to demand the attention and love that she requires. It isn't a naive untested faith she has. I am constantly getting things wrong in her little world of Chaya order and she knows this. Sometimes I bring the wrong book and it is devastating. Sometimes, I say the wrong thing. Sometimes I am simply helpless as a discomfort in her own world or mood exceeds my hands. Sometimes I stop her from doing something or force her to do something she dislikes. And she is not shy about expressing her disapproval. But it doesn't change the love, the confidence, or the faith.
It makes me think if I could have one modicum of that faith and entitlement that she places in me (in my love and presence), perhaps I truly would be in the kingdom of God at this very moment.
And I think of all the ways in which we doggedly and dogmatically angst over our un/worthiness. How preposterous a question to ask whether Chaya is "worthy" of my love! She laughs at the thought and so do I. She is my love. It is not a question of subject-object intermediated by qualitative anything. But the sheer embodiment of love within me. There is no question. No contingencies. No quantity or quality. Merely love. And I think then are we not also beyond that question of worth. Neither worthy nor unworthy, but simply God's LOVE. And I wonder if we were able to believe that wholeheartedly, unabashedly, without reservation, wouldn't we then be in heaven?
I can't say whether "God" is like a parent, but I think there is so much more to being God's child than people frame it as. This is never about fealty or obedience. But something so much deeper and more staggering.
And I hope, very much that on the days that I emotionally collapse on the floor, God/the universe/and everything can give a sigh, check its watch and maybe sit with me knowing that somehow in all the mess, I do actually have that same sense of entitlement and faith. Somewhere in there.
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