So many times in my life I have wanted a face-to-face talk with God. Now is one of those times. I want to say, “Tell me, please tell me: How am I doing? I am bored! My energy is LOW. What is this all about? Life, love, relationships, work, creativity…. WHAT IS IT ALL ABOUT?”
One of the first times I clearly remember wanting to talk with God, I was still quite young. (I suspect I often felt that way as a child. And maybe I did talk with God then. Maybe I named God Bradshaw. For sure, Bradshaw and I talked a lot! And no one else knew about or saw Bradshaw but me.) Anyway, the time I am remembering right now was when I was a young mother of 4, lived in a suburb of a medium sized town in mid-Michigan, was wearing a red, white and blue cotton sleeveless bib coverall summer one piece outfit I felt grand in then and shudder about now. It was night. My children’s father was not home. I ran out into the front yard (I may have had a glass of wine, I don’t really remember) and looked at the star loaded sky: Millions of stars. I shook my fist, screwed up my face, squinted my eyes in an evil eye glare, wiggled my nose and shouting for all the neighbours and god himself to hear, “I KNOW you are a male god, because if you were a woman you would have the guts to come down here and TALK TO ME.”
Help me make sense out of what feels like craziness. Or maybe what it really feels like is worthlessness. Or self-created, unnecessary, self-indulgent, useless, mindless pain.
I believe, if we have any sense at all, as we become nearer to 100 years of age than we are to 50 years of age, (as am I!), we begin to look back, ask questions, answer questions, grieve, celebrate, frown, laugh at ourselves, and seek closure. It amazes me to realize this process, if made visible, might be considered suicidal. WOW. I sometimes go deep down into the dark cave of solitude and angst. And I often times come up dishevelled and disoriented. But I always know I am coming back up. I love the sunshine.
I think this is the journey of life. We don’t really have to suffer. But we don’t always know that. So we suffer profoundly, find our way back, and upon our return have hopefully grown some. If we were as smart as adults as we were when we first got here, we would set aside the suffering and only see and know the joy and love. Somewhere early on we got our innocence taken away by those older and supposedly wiser. And in the moment of lost innocence we learned to suffer and we forgot to trust and to have faith that life can be good and it can be safe. We have a lot to relearn as adults. Children who know they are safe also know how to laugh. Our job as adults is to remember what we have known all along.