As God as my Lifeguard

Some of you who know me, and maybe even those who don't, can maybe sense that I'm feeling a little vulnerable lately. If you've been paying attention. But maybe you haven't. Why would you. I guess I'm not that interesting. How arrogant.

Maybe it's the weight of the election/inauguration (definitely), maybe it's the ongoing effects of the pandemic (likely), or the spiraling consequences of an inept administration (without a doubt), maybe it's the apprehension that comes with age (probably), or maybe it's the everyday pull of mother- and wife- hood (always).

I'm feeling uneasy. Restless. Unfulfilled, even.

That sounds ridiculous. I have soo much to be filled with. Love. A Husband. Kids. Family. A career (it's a little generous to call it that, but it's a job and a purpose which is a blessing). A home. My health. Laughter. Joy. Peace. Cows (I know, right. How ungracious of me.)

I truly have all these things and my cup really does just runneth over (love me some Hope Floats. And root beer floats).

But doesn't Jesus tell us that true fulfillment can only rest in God?

For the last year, which equals about the whole of the pandemic, I've been a little neglectful of my relationship with the Devine. I mean all the Machiavellian restrictions didn't help any, but I'll take the full blame.

Not on purpose. I wasn't mad or spiteful or guilty (or anymore so than the usual Catholic guilt) or avoiding or lazy even. There weren't any major tragedies or events that barrel rolled me or sent me in a spiral.

Just inattentive, drifting, coasting. It wasn't a conscious decision at any point, but in retrospect, as I look back at it, it's almost like since I felt so consumed by so many other feelings and demands that unconsciously putting God on the backburner would be okay. There are always peaks and valleys and I'm human, so, sin and stuff, but it was like since our relationship prior to that was blossoming and fulfilling like I could just hit pause for a minute and I could resume right where I left off whenever I was ready and it would be fine. 

It's not fine! I'm not fine! 

I continued to do the things I had always done or had been doing, but my heart wasn't in it. I was on autopilot. I wasn't even consciously aware that it was slipping away.

Like a mom at a pool with 4 kids and one is screaming your name and you turn to answer and then you're yelling at the other one to quit running and the other one to quit splashing and when you finally look at the one in your hands you realize her head is under water (sorry, Reese). 

I didn't mean to nearly drown her. This is why we have lifeguards (do lifeguards intervene when you're inadvertently drowning your own child?).

But I'm only one person, and as I said, human at that (obvi).

Blessedly, God knows this and has not been neglectful or inattentive of his relationship with me. He has not budged. Actually, like a literal, freaking LIFEguard, he has steadfastly and doggedly remained lodged where he's always been, watching and waiting, ready to jump in and rescue me. Also, just waiting for me to pull my head out of my arse and also, thankfully, reminding me to pull Reese's head out of the water (I swear I'm a good mom). 

Let's also be honest. SINCE we ARE human (I think I said that), our side of the relationship ALWAYS needs work. It's never done, it's never perfect. It's never "shake off your hands, dust off your apron, voila, finished." Wouldn't that be glorious. Go to church, read the bible, say your prayers, level up, boom you're the champion, aaaaaand coast on into heaven. 

Okay, not really. Just dreaming. The glory in finding and knowing Christ truly is in the journey, but I do love me some efficiency.

It doesn't work like that, though. Because we are human (holy moly I need to find another way to make my point) We sin. We fail. Some of us more than others and we do a whole 2 steps forward, 1 step back, and 87 steps sideways with a few drinks thrown in kind of dance. 

I like to think God likes dancing (and drinking. He DID turn water into wine). I know he wants me to get my shit together, but I think he (lovingly) rolls his eyes and smirks at my wandering, rambling, and meandering.

When I was a kid, I would attend our school mass every Friday. And I remember that at certain times the priest would lecture about the wrath of God (I mean to his credit he did preach it in a very kid-friendly way) and I just didn't believe it. My God had a joyful sense of humor, maybe mischievous even. He was the grandfather type (well maybe not my grandfather--have you met Doug? He does not have a sense of humor when you leave the light on or the cupboard door open. I can't imagine God inflicting his wrath for a few extra pennies on the meter). I laughed with God. I played with God. I ran to God when someone was mean to me or I was scared. I couldn't imagine a God that would send people to hell (which I mean, technically, he doesn't, we're responsible for our own souls).

Even as an adult it's still hard for me to reconcile these conflicting images of God. To imagine a "judgement" day. I'm by no means a theologian and admittedly a part of me is scared to delve into those promises, those realities. The one part of me kind of likes my "la la la I can't hear you" safety net of denial and the other part of me longs for the joy and peace (along with the roadmap to eternal life with Jesus) that only the truth can bring.

(Author's note: This is not verified, official Catholic teaching/cathechism--just a mom's exhausted musings.)

On that note, we have confession at CCD tonight, so I better start examing my conscience and reflecting on my list. It's almost my favorite part of being Catholic. It's like free therapy (I mean other than your penance). He HAS to listen, zero-judgement, offer advice, risks excommunication if he tells anyone, and you can go as often as you want! I think if non-Catholics knew how awesome this was, we'd have a major influx of people wanting to join Catholicism. I wonder if the Pope has considered this. I should point out this promotional opportunity to him. The Lord knows there are a lots of people in search of mental healing and forgiveness in today's world. 

I recently read that Pope John Paul II went to confession once a week. I can't imagine that his list of sins was particularly long, but it was said that he didn't want to keep his sins in the dark, even the little ones the rest of us usually shovel in for absolution with the bigger ones we actually confess. It was his way of powering Jesus's light and driving out the darkness. This resonated with me. I don't go to confession every week and I don't usually talk about the little ones (my big ones take up too much time and Father starts to get antsy and speeds things along--maybe this is why I should go every week?), but if the way I feel after confession is a result of Jesus' light and love, then I can see why (if you had time) you'd want to go all the time. You're free-er, lighter, happier. More confident in God's love for you. It builds a connection that feels deeply personal. It's no longer an abstract relationship of God and all his people. It defines it as intimately yours. Mine. Emily Jo (Gehrig) Williams, beloved daughter of God, sent to earth with intent and a purpose.

I'm off to find it.