Calm Inside the Storm

I’ve been quiet for a few weeks, looking and waiting for the next inspiration on what to write. Despite knowing what to write, inspiration to tackle it didn’t come. I tried to write it several weeks ago, but a funny thing happened.

I wanted to write a piece about money, and how attending Lifeline church has changed my perception of money. But my gut said that without some backstory, the story would sound preachy.

So I wrote some backstory about my daughter’s Make-A-Wish trip and then I realized the backstory needed some backstory to explain why that trip had had such a profound effect on me. Hmm…

So I dug a little deeper and wrote some backstory about what it was like to deal with friends and family when my daughter was in the midst of one of her many heart operations; and how the role of being parents to a sick child often meant that my wife and I became the leaders of an extended clan…with everyone turning to us for guidance on how to handle the crisis-at-hand. Whatever the crisis.

And when I tackled that piece, I realized I needed even more backstory. And more. And then still more.

Eventually, I ended up at the beginning of my daughter’s story…to the very bits of my own story I had started writing so long ago. Those old emotions came back…the panic, the fear, the anger and sadness…a big, jumbled mess. Things were getting serious, and the writing not so much fun. And you can’t call your blog “Mosey on God” without having at least a little bit of fun.

Again, I decided to shelve the writing for a few weeks and let that old angst work its way out of me as I waited and searched for that new inspiration. Something was different this time…the angst wasn’t there. Or, rather, it was only there when I tried to write—when I was in the thick of reliving those moments.

The last time I had written myself here emotionally, I was a mess inside and out. It was what inspired me to seek out a church where I could throw my hat into the ring and go three rounds with God.

This time around, however, I wasn’t that angry dad. I have been…fine. Surprisingly fine. I look to my daughter, and instead of feeling fear and sadness, I feel grateful. The fear and sadness are there, down below, but I simply acknowledge those feelings and am just grateful for my daughter.

And that calmness is a good thing attending church has brought me. The stormy chaos of daily life still spins about me, but I’m mostly calm as I spin with it. And I know, without a doubt, it is my Lifeline family that has helped me spin with a certain grace I lacked before.

I’m still struggling to figure out what “church” means to me. Some days, I am asked if I am a Christian, and my response is a shrug. A few weeks ago, Pastor Steve opened up his sermon, asking us all to turn to the person next to us and tell them what we think of when we hear the word “Bible.” I turned to the woman next to me, someone relatively new to the church.

“Ugh,” she groaned.

“Meh,” I replied.

What kind of church is this? Thankfully, it’s a church that accepts folks whose first reaction to the Bible is “ugh” and “meh.”

I still struggle with me. My prayers lately reflect this.  "Dear God," they start.  I don't know why, but my prayers seem to be open letters to God.  These open letters have simply asked, "What the hell is wrong with me?” Despite my frustration, I’m much more patient with myself.

So again, I find that life itself hasn’t changed much…it’s merely my perception of life that has significantly changed since I started attending church.

And that includes my perception of money. Money, money, money…I love it. Hate it, too. But I’ll mosey on that next time.