I suck at praying.
It's hard to find God in this world when you are raised in rural Georgia by stereotypical disingenuous Christians.
We were taught to go to church...and we did. Every Sunday the sermon preached the virtues of Jesus, forgiveness, love, helping those in need...and then we wouldn't even make it out of the parking lot before my mother would be bad mouthing the people at church "putting on airs" or "flashing their gawdy jewelry". My mother considers herself a devout woman - but she is an old testament kind of gal...she prefers the wrathful God who smites the rich, the outcasts, the heathens.
Once I told my mother the the Jewish faith doesn't scare it's people with talk of Hell and punishments and eternal damnation....she cut me off mid-sentence and said "That's because they are all going to Hell". Catholics? Hell. And don't even get her started on that cult called Unitarians.
From an early age I prayed to God to help me be more like Jesus. The find love and peace and forgiveness in my heart. I could lay in my bed at night and feel like Jesus was in the room with me, smiling and holding my hand. But my family's lessons were contrary to that path...they preached hate, judgement, and fear. By middle school my faith was eroding. And once I knew I was a lesbian??? Well that cinched it. For sure God didn't love me. I was a sinner. Condemned. The faith flame had been doused.
In my early adulthood I tried lots of different religions...Buddhism, Judaism, Native American teachings...though at best it was much like trying to keep myself warm in an Alaskan winter with just a small fire made of twigs. Sure my hands stayed warm...but not much else.
I ordered a few books last week...my goal is to instill in my son the sense of faith I had when I was his age...back then I was sure Jesus loved me. My faith was strong, even as confusing as a Southern sermon was to a 12 year old's mind I felt the words ring true and knew that the Holy Spirit was the greatest bestest friend a girl could ever have.
As a parent your job is to teach your child to function without you. To raise them to become independent, happy, young adults. So though I have failed and failed over the past twenty years in my attempt to reignite my faith and reattach my heart to my higher power, I know that I have to try again. And I can do the impossible for my son. I can move mountains. Even mountains built from self doubt and organized hatred. I can do for my son what I can't do for myself...I can reconnect with God.
Sometimes I think the hardest part of being an adult is just remembering how simple things used to be. My child's soul was completely connected to my faith. It was only once the words of the flawed adults permeated that perfection that it started to fall apart.
My first prayer will start simply: "Help". One word says it all.
Help me be a better mom. Help me learn to feel whole without my lover's sweet touch. Help me endure the stresses of life. Help me find friends that will stay. Help me learn to eat vegetables or at least for gods sake take my damn vitamins. God forgives cussing ;) God just wants honesty. Truth.
Help.
Maybe I'll add "please"
