feeling the gravity

In the year my father turned 70, in the year that our church unravelled like a cheap sweater, and in the year that our first child encountered numerous learning challenges, I have come to a clear crossroads. I am drawn moth-like to the road of bitterness and cynicism. The attitude of blame-shifting, of anger, of general self-sorrow and private rage. Listening to other people, the shutters of my heart close, I see their struggles as weak or lame, my eyes glaze over and I check out. The numb stupor acts as a wall and there is an odd sense of safety. Just reading this I realize that these aren't devastating problems, the ones listed in my first sentence. And yet, they are the precipitating events that have led me to exactly this point.

The other road, however, is the "BUT GOD" road. This is the road I want to take. The one that I have to practice wanting to take. It is the attitude of openness. Awaiting the serendipitous, miraculous things that God brings and does in my life every day. It is preaching to myself the sermon of service to the marginalized, love for the poor, the soothing call of the Beatitudes-- that the underdog will win the day, that the forgotten and lost will be found, that the world's priorities are upside-down. It is pushing myself through the yogic stations of patience in discomfort, pausing to acknowledge the fear, and persevering when I'm flat-out beat.

When we were in PR for our anniversary, I fell in love with paddle-surfing. When there are no strong waves, you take this huge, rubber-lined surf board and a kayak oar. You go out past where the waves would break and you stand up and paddle. Counter- to the surfing impulse, you are supposed to stand up completely straight in order to stay balanced. Our instructor, Jose, would say, "Vamo!" and motion for us to follow him. I did not have time to calculate my balance, my risk of falling, my fear of looking silly. He kept inviting us further out. He invited us out, maybe 200 yards to see these caves. I was giddy and laughing at the view. Jose said to Geoff, "She's found her inner Polynesian goddess." But that wasn't it at all. I felt like Peter out with Jesus. And every time I looked at my feet, without fail, I wavered. Every time I set my eyes on the view, things ahead, Geoff's words, Jose's instruction, I cruised through the water like it were a kayak. My kids studied this passage today at VBS, and I have been thinking about it nonstop. I know, I'm switching metaphors-- divergent paths or Peter on the water, but for me the struggle is the same.

I think I will forever wrestle over these things, my fear around my parents' mortality, where our family should worship, Manny's studies. How do I look at these things without navel-gazing or numbing myself to the gravity?

P.S. I post this to document this for later, for me after God and time have brought us through these things but also for the kids to see how these things get parsed.