remedial…

cross posted with http://www.mrsmetaphor.com remedial… Where matters of faith are concerned everything is remedial. I have become a pilgrim of sorts in the last six months on a road I never imagined myself taking. The destination is not new. I can easily say that meeting God on a regular basis has been the destination that I look toward. I’m all about it. In my best moments I suppose I thought I was…

fits and starts…

Perhaps that is what this journey will always be, fits and starts. For someone who likes to think of herself as “even keel” this whole fits and starts business is frustrating in it’s utter inefficiency.  Can’t I just speak whatever words are necessary, have a priest slap some oil on my head and be done with it? Why does this have to be complicated? I’m complicated…but not really. I dreamt last night…

church…

It’s easy to skip church right now. I confess, it’s possible I’ve used our relationships with the people at the Presbyterian church as an excuse to not attend Divine Litury up to now.  I’m so conflicted on Sunday mornings. I wring my hands and wander around the house just looking for someone to tell me to go or tell me to stay home or tell me to leave everyone at home and…

hungry…

Bad news for the potential pill popper part of me, the one who had hoped that one day the blue pill would finally dispense me from the hard work of faith… I’ve picked up a book by Alexander Schmemann and the first line reads, “Man is what he eats…” No matter where I turn I find I am facing this very thought. I am a function not merely of what I say…

fear and hope…

I’m convinced that, for me, being an introvert is not a function of having low self esteem. I actually think highly of myself…perhaps a little too highly based upon some recent prayer revelation, actually. Being an introvert is a function of understanding most things that appear ordinary and routine as having some deep mystery and then making room for that mystery in my opinion. This brings me to some thoughts I had…

winter people….

Every picture of the saints shows grief. Some may read the looks on their faces as anger or seriousness…I see sadness everywhere I look. I see grief. I see the deep grief of the world on their shoulders. I don’t only see it, I recognize it in me. It reaches out of the icons and into me, hands pulling hard on my heart. I can feel this, visceral and vibrant. I worry…

all Greek…

If it’s not bad enough that everything is new in this ancient tradition it’s also in a language I don’t know. There’s an app for that. I downloaded it. What I’d really like is a babblefish in my ear. (google: hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, babblefish) I actually downloaded three apps. One I paid for, two were free. Some of the phrases in one of the “free” apps was “I’ve been watching…