Christianity, if false, is of no importance, and if true, of infinite importance. The only thing it cannot be is moderately important."
C.S. Lewis
A belief in God has always come easily to me. I suppose that is a gift that has been given to me, being that I see so many who struggle with that idea, even within my own family. Jesus Christ is his son, my brother...again, basic truths I have been taught and which make complete sense to me.
I constantly feel like a square peg in a world of round ones and wonder what real purpose the Lord has for me here. Other than my children needing me, I haven't found a "niche" where I belong, either in the church or anywhere else. Writing is the one solace I have, I enjoy the act of writing, the words and their meanings. I enjoy the solitude of reading and writing and the peace that gives me. So I use this one "gift" that God has bestowed on me to share my heart and soul when and where I can.
I've always been a bit of a rebel, although never really "bad". I don't really believe there is "bad" people, just misunderstood, misinformed and mistreated people that need to be taught something different. I was born into a family that had a lot of material wealth (at least we lived like it). I grew up in an expensive suburb of San Diego. I don't remember ever not having what I needed or wanted. However, my family, wasn't very affectionate. Hugs and terms of endearment were not the norm in my family, and I missed that. I'm sure my mother loved me, but I really felt it from my father. My father went out of his way to make me feel like I was important, even when I failed to do the right thing.
For example, when I ran away at the age of fifteen, impulsive child that I was...I couldn't seem to see the consequence of choices (ADD?), just saw the immediate benefit. At the time the benefit was that I would miss a week of school...I hated school. My friend and I took the big station wagon and drove up the coast. We didn't do anything horrible...just drove, slept a couple of nights in church parking lots and spent most of the time in line at gas stations, as it was during an extreme gas shortage. We picked up a couple of free puppies at a supermarket and hung out at the beach.
We met some boys at the beach who invited us home for dinner, being that we were very hungry, we went, without much thought to what dangers could lurk. Turned out that they just told their mothers we ran away and they talked us into calling our own mothers...to make matters worse, it was Mothers Day.
My Mom had every right to be livid, and was, and I have no doubt I would have felt the same. However, my Father, who may very well have felt the same...acted completely different. He hugged me and told me he was glad I was home. He even had the audacity to tell me he was glad I took the car since he knew I knew how to drive (he taught me) and so he felt I was at least safe driving and not off hitchhiking. I've often wondered how someone could be so calm...so loving...so kind under such maddening circumstances. And that is what makes me understand how our Heavenly Father loves us...I had a great teacher.
I'm sure I have failed miserably in trying to be that kind of teacher to my own children many times...but I hope I have made them feel loved, accepted and worthy of all the blessings Heavenly Father has to give us. Not because we are "good enough" or "try hard enough" but because we are his children, just as I love my own kids because they are mine. One thing I was very successful at in my own family is making sure we acted more affectionate and loving. I would always tell them I loved them and give them lots of hugs...every time I see them or speak to them on the phone, they always tell me they love me and give me big hugs...I love that!
I feel I've failed my children in so many ways...I wish I could have given them more in material gifts, more vacations, more fun, more time. I wish I could have been a stay at home and had the energy to dote on them and their activities better. I wish I was the kind of Mormon mom that had organized thoughtful family nights that helped their testimonies to grow and homemade bread in the oven every day.
