on prayers heard

someone commented. four years later. it’s hard to express how stunning this is. I thought the blog had maybe been deleted since I hadn’t gone back to it. And I hadn’t gone back for a silly reason, really–the print was too small on the blog and I couldn’t read it and I was ashamed anyway. but that seems fixed now, I dunno why.

do I still pray?

yes. I’m praying now. I pray every time I write. something about writing has always made my prayers more real.

my prayers have been different though. more fraught with cognitive dissonance between the god I grew up with and the person I think god really is. People, maybe. Mother/Father. both. I believe there’s a divine female as well as male–that my own capacity for divinity is not diminished because my body is capable of having babies. beautiful babies. it’s society that’s ugly when you have them. filling you with guilt, inadequacy, a dearth of choices, rage, exhaustion, shame. shutting you down whenever you say anything bad about them just because saying something negative must mean that you’re a bad mother.

the funny thing is, someone commented. someone heard. but it was four. years. after I needed to hear it.

it’s strange, god–mother/father–how time and prayers don’t always coincide. you’ve been answering a lot of my prayers lately. been sending answers and explanations and forgiveness and love.

but where were you four years ago?

that sounds like I’m angry, but I’m not anymore. I feel calm again. OK again.

when Jesus was dying on the cross, he prayed. my god, my god, why have you forsaken me? and you didn’t answer him. not a whisper. not encouragement. no angel to comfort.

and he died. he died in the darkness.

and what does that mean?