mountaintopDid you see Household Saints? Love that movie. Lily Taylor plays a girl who’s either crazy or a saint. When her parents come to visit her at the looney bin, she tells them that every night, she plays pinocle with God the Father, God the Son, and Saint Teresa of Avila. “God the Father cheats!” she says. “But Saint Teresa and I pretend not to notice.”

I believe in God’s love and I know firsthand the peace that it brings.

But I’m still not entirely sure He wouldn’t cheat at pinocle —with a twinkle in his eye–, or set us up for some wild goose chase that wastes years of our lives. Because once you get outside of Time, that kind of thing probably looks like a real knee-slapper, however annoying it might be on this plane.

“Hey– remember that time I let you meet a really great guy, and then had him fall in love with someone else!?! You shoulda seen the look on your face!!!”

And you can’t convince me God doesn’t have a sense of humor. I once prayed for months to get back an old boyfriend- – “Please let David move from Ohio and live with me.”

The old boyfriend stayed in Ohio. Strangely, though– we got a new roommate named David, also from Ohio.

See? Another real knee-slapper, that. I haven’t even left this plane, and I already see the humor in it.

Good one, Lord. Good one!

What a kidder.

My faith and my ongoing conversation with God really does play a huge part in the way I experience the world and my relationships.
Once I prayed, “God– what’s the deal here with this man? I thought you wanted me to be with him?”

And I get back, clear as a bell– “I do. But you know, Lisa– he has free will after all.”

Felt like it came with a kind of cosmic shrug, not uncaring but certainly non-plussed.

I bring that up because I’m feeling puzzled about my relationship with God, not with this man.

I feel like maybe I’m making a mess of everything.

I feel like I’m a big baby and I should just deal with it and shut up already.

I feel like I must be missing some incredibly obvious point.

I feel like it’s all going to be okay in the end, and so I should just deal with the part where it’s not okay and stop saying, “Are we there yet?”

Yet I feel sometimes like I’m in exile. And that makes me feel confused.

Because if I know I am not separate from God, shouldn’t I always feel safe and happy?

It’s this time thing that really sucks. I’m alone on the mountain, and sometimes it would feel really good to have someone else there to play cards with. I wouldn’t even care if he cheats– as long as it was done with a twinkle in the eye. Someone to say, “Lookee there at that horse runnin’ across the television screen” to.

See? I’m kvetching. I could have left all this unsaid and just stayed with Muriel on the floor of the dressing room, crying in the crumpled up wedding dress she was trying on for no reason.

Okay. This is long enough. I know I’m going to write you more later, because my brain is teeming with all this stuff. My assumption is that the more I understand the way all this feels to me, the better…

 

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