I apologized for not writing lately, I’ve have taken a pause in the last couple of months because I was feeling too blue to write. I’m still blue but thank God I’m surrounded by amazing and loving people everyday to help me see unwanted beauty.
I don’t know when it happened or how, but somewhere along the way I lost my center. Looking back, I am not sure if it happened in small increments over the past year, or has been going on for many years without me realizing it. I think I have grown weary and tired of Jesus, yet somehow my girls have revived Jesus back to life in our home.
Khloe, my almost 6-year-old, has so many questions about God and why this God never dies and never ages like most of the superheros she knows of. The idea of God is warming up to her. And Summer, who can’t wait to turn 5 year’s old, has this love-hate relationship with God. Some days she loves Jesus, and the next day she hates him. And my baby 2-year-old, Hunter, who is the joker in the family, now only prays in cat language. It goes like this: “Dear, meow meow, and meow meow”, etc. As I look at my relationship with God, I see that I feel skeptical like Khloe. I definitely have this love-hate relationship like Summer; and some days I feel like I praying, “meow meow” .
I must confess, when I pray I don’t feel the cozy fuzzy warm feeling that I used to have. I used to feel centered, solid, and in sync. But now, most of the time I feel nothing, and am out of touch. And because I feel nothing, I get frustrated and annoyed. I have stopped praying for the most part; and when I do pray, it brings sorrow and cursing. I end up crying with mascara running down my face. I have like two minutes to erase the evidence before the kids start banging on my bathroom door. How on Earth do they know when I disappear, and that I’m hiding in the bathroom? It’s like they have Jedi mind powers.
But the funny thing is that in my sulking Godless spirit, I am constantly poked with unwanted beautiful inspiration around me. My daughters have created a ritual by waking me up with fresh brewed coffee at 6am, half of which is milk in my mug. I take a sip with the biggest smile on my face even though I don’t like the taste of milk in my coffee. At the same time the girls are bursting with joy. “Mama, do you like the coffee? We made it just for you!” I thank them and cuddle them all of them in my arms.
The other day, I was in a taxicab and ended up having one of the best 20-minute conversations about relationships, parenting, and purpose with the cab driver. We needed to hear each other stories in order to survive, and be present with ourselves. And there is this amazing mom in my daughter’s class that has unexpectedly become my soul sister who has been my sidekick this year co-parenting in Upper East Side. Sometimes we take mini breaks and sip wine just to get through the afternoon while our kids are burning up their energy and tearing up the apartment. We don’t care. We just need to survive, sipping from large wine glasses.
Then something clicked inside me. I may never gain back my “center”. Honestly, however, I don’t’ think I need too. There is something mystical, spiritual, and Godly about being vulnerable and opening yourself to someone. And at that moment, I break a piece of dry bread and take a sip of my mint ginger tea at this hipster café having communion with beautiful strangers around me. I am reminded in my awkward and human spirit that I’m am bathed daily in God’s unexpected goodness.
Sarah McCash, Citylights Community Coordinator