Hello God; It's Me, Gannet

When I was sixteen and in the 11th grade, I did not believe in God.  Five years of VERY religious Catholic and Protestant boarding schools,  and the result was that I considered religion to be a ludicrous invention of a desperate humanity.  (I have a college student who sees things in the same way.  He has no idea how much consideration I give to him.)

Nevertheless, I do recall one winter night in western Massachusetts, when I stood in the snow on a hillside under a sky filled with stars and asked, "God, who are you and what are you doing?"

In some ways, I am still that girl.  Without the long, long brown hair.

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This ~ breast cancer:  surgeries and all the other unpleasantness it entails, months and then the rest of my life being attuned to the possibility of disaster  ~ is turning out to be, in terms of my experience of God, nothing at all like that of three years ago, after Josh died.  

I don't understand what happened three years ago, and went on for months and months  ~ in the expletive deleted middle of seminary ~ but I do see now that it was a dramatic and deep break from anything that I might have thought or imagined about God. Even in my most cynical 16-year-oldness. It was a place so hugely empty, so very dark, so completely lonely, so desperately sad ~ no wonder no one seemed to understand what I was talking about.  And no wonder I was so agitated and angered by some of the nonsensically pious words people tossed my way. Parallel experiences that intersected nowhere.

Now, looking back, I believe that I got to know God a little better.  At least one small, and very silent, dimension of God.  I have a deep sense of God's presence and labor in places where it seems evident that God is not.

I also think that there was some considerable grace there in that I survived to tell the story.  Literally.

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A situation is brewing in my little church.  The timing is most unfortunate: Advent, and a pastor learning to navigate post-cancer treatment. Aren't those enough? I am supposed to be the leader, the wisdom figure to whom people will turn.  I have no idea whether they will do that or not.  I am surprisingly calm.  Anesthesia brain or a genuine confidence in God at work?

Who are you and what are you doing?

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Humor persists.  I have an appointment with my plastic surgeon this afternoon.  That phrase, "my plastic surgeon" ~ it would completely crack me up if I weren't so exhausted.  (He's very cute, and smart, and funny.  I hope he is as skilled as his reputation indicates).  I am going to have a plastic surgeon in my entourage for a long time.  

Life is bizarre.

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Image: There are some kids at church who want to know what God looks like.  The Helix Nebula, I think.