I’m not religious, at least I don’t think I am. After my dear mother wielded Catholicism like a machete, I’ve hung up my bible for good, at least I think I have.
I was 40 before realizing, God wouldn’t strike me dead if I didn’t eat my vegetables.
But then enter…The Believers, that soul band who rocks for God, surrounding me in their different modes of faith and fortitude.
We have Jane, who looks like an angel in casual pants, I’m pretty sure has a direct line to that power, greater than ourselves, the way she smiles like a cat who swallowed the canary, but still knows where he is. I think this whenever I see her, which is usually when I’m on my knees in such distress, needing to be helped up.
Then there’s Bonnie, in Cleveland, who’s a Hari Krishna, complete with pretty paint all over her pretty face, chanting, dancing, texting me mantras, to heal and lift, she’ll say….to soothe the Adiatmik, the physical and mental pain we endure on this earth.
Last but not least, Sonia, an avid Christian who, when diagnosed with breast cancer four years ago, immediately flew to Lourdes convinced the waters healed her, and coincidently (or not), is now, cancer free.
This group has faith-plus, withstanding winds of massive proportions.
After not being able to walk for two weeks, which humbled me more than I can say, cradled in the prayers of these people who rode in like the spiritual cavalry, convinced, their intercessions would make me better.
Hmm, I am better…back on my feet, though tenderly, able to walk a little, to buy bread and fruit, like a cranky monk, who’s been on the disabled list, screaming obscenities at the Apostles my mother claimed knowing personally .
It didn’t hurt either, that when I ran out of library books, to pluck from my shelf, an old Anne Lamott, also a Believer, who laces the Bible through her prose in digestible layman’s language.
There are no coincidences, she says, just God working anonymously, as I re-read her book, Grace Eventually; Thoughts On Faith.
And what I love most about her writing is, she humbly shares when she stumbles, since she too, will shake her fist and yell, God Almighty, what were you thinking?
Jesus, for God’s sake, are you home?
All I know is, after worrying about crucial things like crows feet and hammer toes, my flat, non-existing ass and, you still think I’m pretty, don’t ya…being able to walk again has opened my eyes wider than they’ve ever been.
I’m not religious, at least, I don’t think I am.