Growing up in a kosher home I learned all about what foods I could eat and what foods I couldn't eat. I knew the details of all the Jewish holidays, most of which I have forgotten. For example, someone named Queen Esther was big, but I have no idea why or how she figured into something called Purim, or possibly Sukkoth. Some days we fasted and other days we feasted. Amidst all this ritualistic ballyhoo there was little time for God. At least in my family. In all fairness, my parents did send me to Hebrew school to learn the basics, but after attending just one class I decided I'd rather sleep in on Sundays and since neither of them came up with a decent argument, that was that.
So I grew up Godless. Somewhere along the way, however, God came to me. Not in a dream or a vision or a trance or on the phone, like my born-again sister who was talking to a friend when Jesus came on the line. In fact, I'm not into Jesus -- I still don't get who he was, and that whole "died on the cross and came back three days later" thing seems pretty fishy, although it's a hell of a story. But for me, religion is not so cinematic. It's just that after years of living dangerously and not dying but coming close a few times, I realized I had little to do with my survival. Clearly, someone was watching over me and it sure wasn't my mother, who let me get abducted when I was four years old.
My shrink told me just yesterday that my anxiety stems from my inner child who suffered a trauma at an early age and is still afraid. The adult me is supposed to console her and make her feel safe. But who can make my adult self feel safe in the crazy world we have? You guessed it: The Big Guy. So more and more, the older I get, I find myself turning to that power Greater Than Myself and credit Him for all the things that go right.
For example, we are in the middle of a big snowstorm here in Maine, goddammit, and last night as I went to sleep I prayed, actually I begged, the Lord above that I would not lose power, and this morning I woke up and there was power! And then there was coffee! And even a toasted waffle! I turned on the TV (there was TV!) and learned that thousands of other Mainers were without power. They were not having coffee and waffles, or anything. And I thanked God for answering my prayers. (I often thank him for things that go well, and tell him to lay off when I have a string of bad luck.)
Maybe it's nuts, but that's where I am right now. Not that I'm rushing off to church on Sundays, but I do believe that God is out there, or up there, or somewhere. He's a bit like Santa Claus, in that He sees you when you're sleeping, He knows when you're awake, and He knows if you've been bad or good. (So be good, for goodness sake!)
So I grew up Godless. Somewhere along the way, however, God came to me. Not in a dream or a vision or a trance or on the phone, like my born-again sister who was talking to a friend when Jesus came on the line. In fact, I'm not into Jesus -- I still don't get who he was, and that whole "died on the cross and came back three days later" thing seems pretty fishy, although it's a hell of a story. But for me, religion is not so cinematic. It's just that after years of living dangerously and not dying but coming close a few times, I realized I had little to do with my survival. Clearly, someone was watching over me and it sure wasn't my mother, who let me get abducted when I was four years old.
My shrink told me just yesterday that my anxiety stems from my inner child who suffered a trauma at an early age and is still afraid. The adult me is supposed to console her and make her feel safe. But who can make my adult self feel safe in the crazy world we have? You guessed it: The Big Guy. So more and more, the older I get, I find myself turning to that power Greater Than Myself and credit Him for all the things that go right.
For example, we are in the middle of a big snowstorm here in Maine, goddammit, and last night as I went to sleep I prayed, actually I begged, the Lord above that I would not lose power, and this morning I woke up and there was power! And then there was coffee! And even a toasted waffle! I turned on the TV (there was TV!) and learned that thousands of other Mainers were without power. They were not having coffee and waffles, or anything. And I thanked God for answering my prayers. (I often thank him for things that go well, and tell him to lay off when I have a string of bad luck.)
Maybe it's nuts, but that's where I am right now. Not that I'm rushing off to church on Sundays, but I do believe that God is out there, or up there, or somewhere. He's a bit like Santa Claus, in that He sees you when you're sleeping, He knows when you're awake, and He knows if you've been bad or good. (So be good, for goodness sake!)
No comments:
Post a Comment