I’ve been trying to upload some photographs I took yesterday and today. This frigging laptop won’t sense the memory stick. Picture posting shall be on another occassion.
I went to church today after months. I actively listened and loosely participated in Sunday School, staying attentive for the prompts that I knew would slap me in the face. And they came, softly they did, “If it weren’t for Jesus’ Atonement, life would be pointless.” I tried digesting that. I grew up believing this blindly.
In the last year, I’ve been drawn to really feel what I feel: to practice mindfulness. When I did this, I felt that going to church and being a good girl just didn’t quite made me the happiest. Guilt wasn’t something I wanted to be dragging around with me. I didn’t want to feel unworthy, unclean of the mere necessities that [my] human soul + body so often gravitate towards and that the church makes so abominable. So, when I hear someone say that if it weren’t for his Atonement life wouldn’t make sense — I feel uneasy. I’ve experienced being religious and spiritual and seeking. And it has brought me closer to a divine presence/ feeling like very few other experiences have. I have faith, I do believe in revelation, and I do believe in God. And to this day I have good-girl reactions that slip out of me (like feeling unsure of posting “damn” on FB or even writing this). But, why does every gospel lesson have to do with having to ask for forgiveness to be “good enough” again? All this talk of repentance made me feel so incredibly bad and dirty growing up. I blame my upbringing for living a shameful adolescence filled with questioning, guilt, uncertainty, and lack of self-love. If I fuck up once and again, can I continue calling that life as opposed to a trial that God put me on (or as taught by the church, I chose to take part in)? I’m swaying my way into all these ideas, trying to consolidate some of it. I’m reading a lot about simple spirituality and self-awareness. I’m not gonna lie. I kinda like that better.
I did promise my mom to go to church with her every Sunday though, and people there are rather nice and friendly. Several of them know me from over a decade ago, so they feel sympathy and nostalgia to see me all grown up, I guess. The Sunday School discussions left me wanting more, and I want to call it a learning opportunity. Enrichment of the mind, maybe?
P.S. Never thought I’d one day use the F word with God in the same sentence (there goes a good-girl slip again).
Roca sleeps so pleasantly next to me. His little feet just hit my wrist (he moves a lot during the night). I thought once he was out of my womb all the moving and kicking would stop, but it doesn’t. Tells me I should be sleeping.