Keepin it real folks

Ok, this might dissapoint some people, it might make some people get down on their knees and pray for my very soul (which could never hurt, I suppose), But that's the beauty of it being MY blog on the internet, there's a nifty X on top of this page that will simply bring you back to the adorable picture of your boyfriend/kid/dog on your desktop.



At this moment in time I don't consider myself A Christian. I just don't. I've tried, desperately at times, to have a relaltionship with the God I was brought up to praise but you know what? All I ever hear is silence, all I ever feel is lonliness from my talks with God. I feel like there's no one listening and I'm talking to myself, which isn't always a bad thing either, sometimes only we can be brutally honest with ourselves. I'm just not FEELING it.



I was baptised in a Catholic church when, as an infant, my mother made that decision for me based on what she was raised to beleive. I attended a pentacostal church through my teen years after we were no longer welcome in the Catholic congregation because of the whole unwed mother/bastard child thing. (where speaking in tongues never failed to creep me out). I was baptised 3 times. Once per the Catholic ways of baptising babies lest they die and their spirits hang in purgatory for eternity, once in gradeschool per the pentacostal way of waiting until a child is old enough to understand the meaning of baptism, and once in my teen years, apparently just for the hell of it. I even went to Christian school in 2nd grade, where I fell miserably behind my public schooled peers and have paid for it since.

I have tried at various times in my adult life to find my church "home", never succeeding. Never able to find the place where I felt free to be myself, accepted, and at ease with the sermon spoken in front of me.

In all of my experience in church I was left with more questions than answers. I would see these people go to church every sunday and shake hands with those beside them and then hit the bar for some cocktails and congregation bashing later. Did you know so and so did this? Who WAS that lady in the 4th pew. Did you see Mrs Smith in JEANS? Oh my.

I began to wonder if these people even read the same bible I had. Yes my friends, I have read the bible cover to cover. MY bible looked the same as theirs and was purchased at the same store, but seemed to speak a message far different than many of theirs. You see, my bible spoke of a Jesus who spread a message of love and kindness. Most people I met in church were anything but loving and kind once they walked out of those double doors and into the parking lot. My bible spoke of "judge not lest you be judged yourself" yet most "Christians" I know are some of the most judgemental people I've met. ( said MOST, not all, so to quote a dear friend of mine please pull your head from your sacral iliac now).

You see, I have never felt as judged as I have IN church. I have never felt as though I was surrounded by people with two complely different faces as I have in church.

And so began a few years of self discovery. I even spent some time learning Pagan beliefs.

I turned back to God a few years ago and in the time befor Alex was conceived until shortly after he died I embraced my belief in the lord wholeheartedly. I did what I thought I was suppose to, I gave him everything I had and listened intently to hear his direction.

I got nothin folks. Nothin. Nothing at all. Silence.

My mom always liked the 'Footprints' poem which talks about footprints in the sand and the person asks why if the 2 sets of footprints are his and God's, why sometimes in the path are there only one set and God tells him that those are the times he carried him.

Well listen. If I were being carried would my feet not feel the burn of the hot coals under them these past years? If I were being carried would I be so exhausted? No. I've felt every one of those coals, I've exhausted myself trying to move forward in sand that turned to quicksand at times and the God that I begged for help never once carried me.

I know that my Christian friends will say that my trials are tests of the lord. I know they will say that simply beleiving and having a relationship with the lord does not exempt one from bad experiences. Well then I say, what? What does having a relationship with the Lord give me? A cool imaginary friend? An eternity in "heaven"? Savior from some imaginary demon waiting in the wings to steal my soul and torture me for eternity?

Please. I, and many people I have come to know, have already suffered worse than that. Scare tactics aren't the answer. You can't scare me, I've seen hell. I've lived there. I will always live there as much or as little as the strength I can muster to pull myself out on any given day.

A coworker of mine asked another a question the other night. She asked my coworker who is trying to find her way in her beliefs if she beleives Jesus walked the Earth. A good question. My answer would be that yes, I do beleive a man walked the Earth that was genuinely nice to the people he met. Who helped people who needed help and put himself second. Many people have lived like that, no one wrote a book about them. Jesus was a man, he didn't have magic powers he didn't heal anyone. People had ailments and diseases then and miraculous recoveries, sure. But most of that can now be explained with what we know about the human body that we didn't then. I beleive Jesus was the son born of an unwed teenager who for whatever reason didn't disclose who his father was and as teenagers do created a fantastic story, which somehow people bought. This child, Jesus was exceptional in that he was a nice person who brought out the best (and sometimes the worst in the less secure) in people.

I'll stop there because no one is interested in my interpretation of the bible. I'm a critical thinker, I don't often buy nonesense. I beleive that magic is something created when we don't want to accept the truth.

Or maybe it's created when times are so tough we just need something else to beleive in. We need to beleive that there is someone looking out for us when we feel alone. We need, in our difficult times, to believe that after this hard life is over we will be rewarded with a life in a beautiful place, heaven if you will. Maybe that helps us get through the day. And there isn't a damn thing wrong with that.

There are days when it's been easier for me to beleive in some magical being in the sky waiting for me with streets of Gold and as much chocolate as a girl could want for all eternity. But it's all just fantasy.

I don't consider myself a Christian and I don't know how that's going to go tomorrow, next week, next year. I do know that I am made strong by my experiences and only I can take the credit for that, not some imaginary man in the clouds. Me. I am strong and wise and create my own magic. I see the beauty on Earth and give no thought to what happens later because only now matters and I don't want to spend my life living according to someone's interpretation of how my life should be lead in order to get to that magical promised land. Paradise is a matter of interpretation and when I looke into the eyes of my children, I'm already there.