Bees in My Bonnet

 The existence of fairy tales and their universality tells me something about the condition of the human heart: We love neatly contained stories with closure. It comforts us to feel the end of a story coming, and to know there will be a resolution, even if imperfect, brings a kind of relief. Most fairy tales have happy endings, some have gloomy endings, but they all seem to have a kind of solidly-footed ending. It wraps up the package, the telling: the journey for the hearer is complete. And I wonder if this universal yearning isn't also re-worked within Christendom to promote ideals that may yield fervour on the one hand, but despair on the other. For our fervour, consistency, zealous striving, and success are all prone to wane at times, and we may expect more from ourselves than is possible or realistic. Yet that doesn't stop Christian publishers from churning out books that beckon more from each seeker.  Who am I to complain? I wouldn't read such things anyway - though I...

 Let me tell you what prayer looks like for me: it involves all the feels, if I have any, and often I feel nothing. Absolutely flat. Unfeeling. Blank. Numb. Even in those states, I pray. Sometimes my words are more thoughtful, sometimes they're a jumbled mess. I don't think it really matters to God - THAT  I pray, I am convinced, delights His heart. These days my head hits the pillow and my whole body slows down and then the feelings come. "I don't want this, God. I feel like You, in a single instant, handed me a pathway of suffering, of pain, of regret, of darkness. I know You were there, protecting my boy. I know You spared Him. I'm grateful, I'm SO grateful." Then I pause. I think about gratitude. What does it mean that I'm grateful? I open my heart before God and say, "You have been good to me, to him. I know it. His suffering is great - and ours, watching him suffer, is great too. I know it could have been worse. But in this moment, I want to...

 I realize people of Christian faith, people of other faith, and people of no particular faith, read this blog. And all are welcome here. Thing is, I sometimes ponder my own life of faith through an external-journalistic eye, and pronounce my own opinions of myself: Sarah, your faith is just crazy. Even in my prayers, I express this directly to the God I believe is there: "Lord, is this just a fanatical, pie-in-the-sky sentimental thing that I do - praying to You? I sometimes feel crazy trusting You this much ." Here I am, in those moments, asking God if He thinks I'm as crazy as I seem to think myself. Sometimes I trust God so wildly, so boldly, so almost-stupidly, that I think I'm more than a few cards short of a full-deck. And then I tell God what I think of my trusting Him so much - I analyze it and say, "There's a word for this in psychological terms: Magical thinking."  Lately I've been trying to wrap my head around this concept: magical thinki...