I don’t believe in God. The bible and it’s characters are to me just another collection of Greek Mythology tales. My mother was always letdown by this. She believed her Lord was with her till her last breath. It brought her peace. I appreciate that about religion. No matter how nutty it really is, this magical mystical individual who made everyone, does everything, knows everything, and is everywhere brings about so much hope in people. But the whole idea of Jesus Christ is still very silly to me.
My dad refers to “the Good Lord” quite a bit when discussing why things happen the way they do, when he is unable to explain a certain occurrence.
I wasn’t always this way. I went to a Christian preschool. I prayed before bed every night. I would carry on a dialogue with God when things were going wrong. I didn’t know better. I was taught that you were to believe.
When I was pregnant, a woman approached me at the gym. She said, “I hope you raise that baby with the Lord Jesus in it’s heart!” Or something to that effect. I just let out a little laugh and kept on my way. There are people who REALLY piss me off when they try to push their beliefs on to you. She was certainly one of them. My belief certainly isn’t a popular one, I am well aware. But, her belief (in my opinion) certainly isn’t a logical one.
Lately, life has really challenged me. Nothing seems easy anymore. Everything I approach meets me with an obstacle. EVERYTHING. Big and small. A small example: after getting home from a shift at the restaurant I work for, I pull into the garage, put the car in park, and try to exit the vehicle. My son’s bike is blocking the door from even opening. So, I call my husband to come move the bike. No answer. So, I climb over the seats to exit the passenger side. At the door, another bike blocking my path. I attempt to maneuver through to plug in the car (it’s electric) and I can’t get through because now my own bike is blocking the path. I decide to say “Screw it!” and walk into the house. Hubby is passed out on the couch, the kitchen is a mess, and my dog’s hadn’t been fed. That’s my small example.
Large example: my mom is dead. My dad is not well. My father-in-law has been given 6 months. And my Step-Father is no longer in our lives.
I question “why” a lot. Why is life beating me down? I know, perspective is such an important part of attitude, motivation, positive mindset, etc. I have a house. I have a cute little family that’s so great. I have food in my belly. I have a really great partner in life. But, FUCK!
I have many friends (close and not close) whom are very religious. Most still love me in spite of our difference in belief. I kid! To know me IS TO LOVE ME! But, I must admit that I do sometimes wonder if people ever believe that because I don’t participate or subscribe to their faith, that this is the reason why life is so hard for me. Or, maybe they don’t really know how hard it’s been, that this thought doesn’t cross their mind, and that their too busy loving their Lord to know my struggle. Or…. maybe I just keep most of my troubles to myself. I mean, who knows.
Anyway, religion. It sure does seem to bring about a certain peace, sense of purpose, and focus to those who embrace it. And more power to them. I continue to seek out that thing, that person, that power, that light for myself. I do see it in my children. I see it in the setting sun when I pass the Back Bay on my way to Balboa Island for work. I see it in the kindness of strangers.
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