easter

I went to church on Sunday. It has been over a year. It was a baptist church and it was easter. I like the concept of easter, the pagan concept that is... rebirth... rejoicing in the newness and celebrating fertility. Jesus beaten and hung on a cross does not appeal to me. Neither does a screaming pastor or whatever the Hell I witnessed sunday. I cried. They played loud music and clips of Passion of the Christ (which I have never seen because of the jesus beaten and hung aversion). I remember thinking as the clips played and the music surrounded us that if any of these Christians saw what was truly in my heart they would pity me I am sure, pray for me, and close their mind to me as well. Yes, tears fell down my face as Simon took the cross from Jesus, but not because I believed that Jesus was resurrected for my sins, but because of his suffering and another man's willingness to bare his burden out of love. That is a beautiful thing to see. The rest of the scenes were overly barbaric! There were young, young children in the congregation. It made my skin crawl. When the pastor started yelling about the risen Christ, we snuck out, one at a time. I sat in that church knowing that I am not a Christian. I felt almost like a fraud being there. I was not moved by the 'spirit' , though others may have thought I was. But, they do not know me and they do not know that the Disneyland commercial in which a little girl tells Mickey Mouse ,"I've waited my whole life to meet you" moves me more than the thought of a man (glorified by men) died on the cross so that I could be good enough for the god that created me.

Afterward, we dyed eggs and ate pizza and lasagna. We didn't even pray. We truly are heathens. I am going to read The History of God again. I am lacking spiritual edification.

not with a bang but a whimper

I am not sad, I have moments of sadness, but I am not sad.
I am feeling almost set free.
He brushed the hair from my face today. Why am I so weak that I mistake a tender touch for love?
He only sleeps or leaves now.
I don't understand why there is no argument except when I mention that we should work things out.
I know I don't want to fight or put effort into this.
I have always known where I stand.
this is the way MY world ends, this is the way MY world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.

brave

When one of my sons was young he used to ask for something. I would say,"no."
It went like this:
"Can I have a cookie?" from my tow-headed two year old.
"no."
"can I have a cookie?"
"No."
"I brave you.... can I have a cookie?"
What does that mean? What was he saying and where did he hear that word and was it I beg you he meant to say and where would he hear I beg you?

That is what I think of when I think of the word brave.

But, I need to brave, I am trying to be brave. I brave myself to be brave. It's time to move on and be brave.

ever?

Do you ever feel like you just don't exist? There is no real reason that I should think that there should be a connection somewhere, some when or with someone. I wanted one. I wanted a discussion, a jolt to my reality, something to make me feel that I was more than ethereal. But, there was nothing. The kids noticed me, like I was a bump in the middle of the night that woke them enough for them to yawn and turn on their other side. The husband spoke to me, but mostly avoided any real conversation, too painful maybe. More than likely, not ready to face the music. And here I am, alone in a house filled with people who don't really see me. If only I played world of warcraft, maybe then I could connect.