Sunday, February 7, 2010
Looks like we're getting down to it. You know, when you start sharing about your family, you can only tell camp stories for just so long. So, here's what I want to say. I always hated it when people told me how blessed I was to have Taylor. I hate it when people say, "Oh, God always gives those babies to such special people." Something inside of me just wants to scream, "Horse S***!"
Let me clarify.
When Taylor was born, I guess I was pretty spoiled. I wanted perfect children just like you. I expected perfect children--you know 10 fingers/toes, high IQ, good reflexes on the Apgar Scale. I could tell by the doctor's face that we hadn't done so well on that very first test. (Precursor of things to come?) I felt like I had been hit by an emotional Mack Truck. I can tell you now that I am not proud of the way I felt. But, I was who I was.
Everybody who came to the hospital--and for years to come--told us how "blessed" we were. Blessings all around. Blessings this. Blessings that. I just wasn't buying it. If I was so blessed, why was everybody crying? Finally we put a big sign on the door that read, "Please do not use the word blessings with us today." What I really wanted to tell them was that I wanted God to have their phone number. I mean, how did he get mine? Why did I pick up? I wanted God to call you--and not me.
It has taken me a long while, but now I am finally understanding that gold is mined in the dark. In our deepest wounds, there is always wisdom waiting to be un-covered. And! There are gifts from our wounds waiting to be claimed if we're brave enough to look.
So, bring on the blessings. Let 'em flow! I'm wearing my mining hat. But, let me just warn you; I am still giving God your phone number. I wonder what he'll want you for. Hmmmm. Call me. Let me know.
Yep! I bet you didn't know this, but I am God's Wife. Well, I have not received official word from THE CHIEF, but the paper work is pending I am certain. How do I know I'm God's wife? Well, heck, I have set myself up as master judge and jury of all of life. I have to help God know what's right and what's wrong---naughty or nice ---if you like to sing.
Seriously, I judge poor black girls who keep having babies. I am hard on people who are too rich or too thin---and G_d help you if you're both. I have secret disdain for people who don't work hard or who break in front of others in line. I totally dismiss anybody who drives a Hummer. (Oops! Just lost some readers!) OMG!(Yes, Oh My God) to all of those people who think they're entitled. My judgment just does not ever seem to end.
That might be ok if I were living on a desert island (with ice cream sandwiches and a naked man-----ok, skip the ice cream sandwiches) and no children to raise/influence/lead/guide/love. But I'm not on an island and it does matter what I think and what I feel. I know that my outer world really does reflect my inner world. (Spend an hour ruminating on that today---I dare you.) Everything we think and believe shows up some place in our lives. Just look. Look carefully.
Poor 'ole Taylor. Here he is this completely open, honest, pure, accepting human being and I just layer him up with my own judgments. He'll point to a store, a church, a place, an event, a club and I'll jump right in and "corrupt" him. "Oh no, we won't fit in there. And besides that, we don't like them/it." I mean, what does he know? He operates from a place of unconditional love. What in the world is wrong with him???
Oh Lord, what I'm thinking now is that it's high time I look at my judgements straight in the eye---with love, of course. Do I really need to be God's wife?
I'm just curious, faithful readers (or not faithful readers), what are your judgements? Am I alone in this? Does God have many wives---or is it just me?
Are you brave enough to share? Anybody? God's wife?