Out With the New...

and in with the old. I have been known to get rid of new items in favor of old ones. New items don't have stories. They're empty. They have yet to be handled by human hands, used, adored or even disliked. I much prefer 'things' that have been used, that have memories. Even if it's something I picked up at a thrift store, and never knew who owned before me, I can still fill in memories with my imagination. I have quite a few things that belonged to my mom and dad. There are many items I let slip through my fingers after my dad died. At the time I thought I was avoiding issues, but I so wish I kept some of them. But who knows. Maybe they are now sitting on someone's shelf who appreciates used items with spirit.



My mom and dad had this bowl for as long as I can remember. Perhaps they used it in the restaurant they owned at the time I was born. I have vivid memories of my dad eating popcorn out of this bowl. This is the bowl he always used for his sourdough pancakes, and it is now used for my sourdough pancakes.


My dad's grill. My newer grill burned out, but his old grill still cooks up a good batch of pancakes.



And we will eat the pancakes on plates that belonged to my parents on a table that was in their kitchen. This is the table where my parents argued over the crossword puzzle every morning: mom always got it first so she could get her few answers in before dad finished it up. This is the table where I ate the last dinner my mom ever cooked. This is the table where I sat with my dad, crying, the morning after mom died.

See what I mean? They have stories. They have memories. These are sacred items.

Coming Out....

There's one message board I visit daily. Mainly, it's a place for me to discuss curriculum. In addition there's a general forum where people just chat - sometimes pleasantly, sometimes not so pleasantly. I would guess the breakdown on the board is probably 80% conservative Christian, 10% the other kind of Christians (not fundamentalist, more liberal) and 10% non-Christian. It's not a religious board, but since it's for homeschoolers, that's the reality. The secular homeschooling population is quickly growing, and it's likely that representation on the board is more than 10%, but not everyone posts regularly so it's hard to tell.

Recently there has been a flood of religious posts most of which end up getting closed. I think the moderation is a little strict, since we're all adults, but it's their message board. In the past, in religious threads, I have identified myself as a Catholic Christian. I've also been involved in discussions where I've talked about my journey. Yesterday, someone asked non-Christians (Pagans, Buddhists, Wiccans, etc.) to talk about their beliefs. Well, I did it. I posted about the quiz I took and little about how my belief in 'God' has changed over the years.

That might seem like a little thing, but it was a huge step for me. It was with anxiety and some fear that I clicked submit. It's not at all unusual for the 'louder' of the conservative Christian group to jump in and, not discuss, but argue. It goes without saying that they are absolutely, without a doubt, right, and everyone else is wrong, so having a enlightening discussion is a forlorn hope. Just to say I'm feeling rather proud of myself right now. One step at a time: first, be honest with yourself and branch out from there.

One other thing. Last night we went to another parish for Mass (due to the main road being blocked heading north). The pastor of this parish has the reputation of being the most liberal priest around - with our regular pastor coming in second. The main point of all this is: I loved his sermon. In all my years I had never heard the parable of The Prodigal Son explain in such a way. I felt full of love when I walked out. Even more than that, I felt so full of love and felt so sure that God is Love that I even went to communion which I haven't been doing for some time. I'm going to quit here before I start talking about something that will depress me.

Forward Progress

A year ago there was a poll posted on a message board I visit. It led you to beliefnet.com where you can complete a survey, and it will match you with the right faith according to your beliefs. I remember struggling with the questions – my finger tapping the mouse nervously, moving the pointer between the ‘right’ answer and my answer. In the end I chickened out and clicked the ‘right’ answer. When I completed it, I clicked submit, and what do you think? I passed the test. Yes, it was a test for me: to see if I could be faithful in my answers even when my mind was in total doubt. It matched me to Roman Catholicism 100%. The next was Eastern Orthodox.

This week this same survey popped up in a thread I was involved in. I clicked over there and stared at the questions. I was nervous. I think my clicking finger was shaking. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and clicked. This time, not the ‘right’ answer, but my answer, from my heart. Moved on to the next question and did the same. It wasn’t easy. I felt cold all over. Is this how a traitor feels? But I did it and clicked submit. My eyes were squeezed shut because I was still afraid to see the verdict. Would I pass or would I fail. Or would I be able to recognize failure as my own personal victory? I opened my eyes slowly, and there it was before me. My feelings were all over the place. There was no going back. I must move forward. So I will publicize it. Tell the truth to the whole internet world, which is relatively safe, since my entire internet world here consists of a handful of people. Braver than I was a year ago.

100% - Neo-Pagan
98% - Liberal Quaker

And at the very bottom…

Eastern Orthodox and
Roman Catholic

I think they both had around 2%.

So, what do I do with this? Neo-Pagan? Hmmm. I know some very nice Pagan people on line. This helps. My favorite sister-in-law is a liberal Quaker, and I don’t think there is a nicer, more compassionate, respectful person walking the earth right now. Okay. Pretty good company so far.

This time I was honest, or as honest as you can be with multiple choice answers that don’t quite pinpoint you. Still, it wasn’t the answer I wanted. You see, I want to answer the questions honestly, from my soul, but I want the answer on the bottom to be on the top. But it doesn’t work that way. If I’m honest, I don’t get the result I want. To get the result I want, I have to ignore my heart, my mind, my reason. Is that what belief and faith amount to? So I felt sad.

Then I felt happy. I had passed a big hurdle. I had passed a personal test. It took courage and resolve and faith. Faith in myself.

I’m moving forward.

God

It’s hard for me to write or talk openly about very private matters, and beliefs are very, very private for me. I feel afraid. My thoughts, when I go back over them, seem sometimes rather silly. Not very educated nor intellectual. I’m trying to get over that. When something strikes me a certain way, I want to remember it. I’m getting braver about saying I believe… even though I know many find will find it silly or ridiculous. It takes a lot of courage for me to say these things out loud – understanding that the internet is as out loud as I get.
There’s this movie that we’ve watched on several occasions. Each time I have nothing less than a spiritual awakening. The movie is The Straight Story. Richard Farmsworth (Matthew from Anne of Green Gables) plays the part of Alvin Straight who is making a trip ‘his way’ to see his estranged brother. It’s one of those heartwarming movies that makes you cry, smile and laugh all at the same time, and leaves you feeling uplifted for days afterward. But it’s much more than that for me.
Alvin is no-one important, at least by our culture’s measuring stick. He not well-educated, a common laborer, maybe not even the nicest man around. He admits he used to drink and he was mean when he drank. But his story, for me, is the epitome of human spirit.
We watched the movie this last weekend, and this time it finally dawned on me why this movie always leaves me feeling I’ve had a spiritual epiphany. It’s a movie about God. Alvin is on a pilgrimage – a pilgrimage to honor God, to honor the human spirit. That’s it. The human spirit, that something that can never adequately be described with words: the passion, emotion, conviction, courage, lust, desire, love, hatred, determination, that spirit. That is God. Human spirit is God. God is human spirit.
Have I just raised man to the level of godhood? Or have I lowered God to the level of manhood? Or is there any difference?

If I Could Do It Over...

A couple weeks ago (post football season) my dh was sitting at the kitchen table with his coffee looking very pensive. I asked him what his thoughts were. He said that if he had it to do over he would choose to not get involved with football. (He's a self-proclaimed fanatic.) I smiled, nodded and said I understood. He gave me a questioning look, and I said if I had it to do over I would not get involved with religion. He smiled and gave me an understanding nod.

We understand each other so well.

Powerful Words

From "The Voices"

The rich and the fortunate do well to keep silent,
for no one cares to know who and what they are.
But those in need must reveal themselves,
must say: I am blind,
or: I'm on the verge of going blind,
or: nothing goes well with me on earth,
or: I have a sickly child,
or: I have little to hold me together ...

And chances are this is not nearly enough.

And because people try to ignore them as they
pass by them: these unfortunate ones have to sing!

And at times one hears some excellent singing!

Of course, people differ in their tastes: some would
prefer to listen to choirs of boy-castrati.

But God Himself comes often and stays long,
when the castrati's singing disturbs Him.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~

Traditions

traditions keep me grounded. They're my constant. We have many traditions, ones that my husband and I have forged together. They're directional signs, keeping me on the right path. Security. Some rather silly, some more serious, and some very secret.

Always on Groundhog Day, we watch Groundhog Day. Every year. In our room with the girls on the floor. They expect it. I expect it. Husband expects it. One of life's anchors.