Three years ago I started a blog called "Letters to Betty." I wrote to help process Mom's death. And, it helped, it really did. I'm mostly okay these days. I still miss her terribly, but her loss doesn't stop me in my tracks like it once did. One of the things I do miss about Mom is her beautiful spirit. She was goodness and grace and I'm sure everyone who encountered her felt it. She believed deeply in God and lived her life in a way that I hope has brought her rewards. I say "I hope" not "I know" because I don't. I want to know, but the only way to know is to die, so... therein lies the rub...
I shy away from proclaiming the fact that I'm a Christian. It makes me uncomfortable. I also don't proclaim that I am a Sagittarius or right-handed or love The Portland Cello Orchestra and deviled eggs. If you know me, you know these things. And if you ask me anything about me, I'll answer you if I can. The thing is, I don't have the words to accurately describe the totality of me. Nor do I have the words to describe God. I also feel like I am a Taoist, a Buddhist, a Jew. I don't know enough about Islam to say I'm a Muslim, but I have an idea I could feel like a Muslim, too. I was brought up in a Christian home, but I have studied other religions and see more similarities than differences. If God is so big that no one can know God fully, who am I to say what he/she/? is. What I do know is that Jesus was an excellent example of how I should live and love.
I also shy away from chitchatting with people I don't know. It makes me very uncomfortable. My husband and child do not, thank goodness. Saturday, we met a woman at a metro stop. I tried to not to chat, but John, being John, engaged her. Once the train finally arrived, the woman and I sat together. We started talking about children which is always easy and I learned so much about her. I felt a real connection to her. She came from Macedonia and lived in Maine which she loved and moved to the area for a job. She talked about how people in the area are unwilling to interact with each other and how she longed for the warmness of her previous homes. I am so glad I stepped out of my safe place because I made a friend. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?
Our destination was the Holocaust Memorial Museum. We'd never been and for some reason I felt it was absolutely necessary to go. Was God calling me to go? Yes. Maybe. No. Pick one according to your belief. I have no words to describe the experience. What would I have done if I lived there and then? I can only hope I would have been brave enough to do what I could. We are called to act not watch.
Sunday I had to be at the 8am service to serve. As I was rushing in, I noticed people other than regular parishioners on the sidewalk. It seemed like two people were assisting a man in a wheel chair and then suddenly they crossed the street. As I crossed over to enter church, the man in the wheelchair called to me. Jack was with me and I immediately turned to my natural defense of not interacting. At 8am on Boscawen Street there is no place to hide, so I let this man talk to me about his stomach virus and how the prescription he needed cost $140, but all he wanted to buy was Alka Seltzer for $11.40. I truly didn't know what to do because I had cash in my purse which is a rarity. Society has conditioned me to think that this man and the two others across the street were working together. That they were looking for rich church goers from whom to panhandle so they could go buy something that probably put them on the street to begin with. I know there are those who take advantage of systems in place, but I am not in a position to judge. I opened my purse and handed the man $20 because I had it.
The take home message from the morning's sermon was that we are called to use actions, not words. Was God orchestrating what happened this weekend? or was I just being aware and making those connections myself? There are those who would say God had everything to do with it and those who would say it was just coincidence and awareness. I would say I don't know. Maybe God is coincidence and awareness. I do know that believing that Jesus was real and showed us how to live our lives in a different way makes sense to me.
So, if you ask me if I'm a Christian, I'll say yes. I was baptized when I was in the second grade. Am I saved? No, and here's why. The word "saved" implies that the work is done. That the moment I was dunked in that baptismal pool, my future actions don't matter. Another issue with that word is that I see it used as a way of judging others. It seems to me that people who proclaim to be saved are too worried that you might not be and that Christianity is the only route to being saved. I just don't know and I'm not afraid to say it.
After church, Jack and I had lunch together. I told him I wasn't sure if I should have given that man money or not. He didn't know either. See, the day before, someone in DC had asked for money for the homeless shelter and I had lied and said I didn't have any. It felt more comfortable to lie there - we were in the big city, at a metro station and we were obviously tourists. As soon as we passed, I apologized to John and Jack for lying. Maybe that's why I gave the next man the money. Maybe it was because the message of the Holocuast Museum will stay with me forever. Maybe I'm just trying to live life as best as I can and I don't always get it right. But, I'm trying and that's a start. This is the Odyssey of my Spirit.
