I wallowed in my depression pity party.

I’m okay with the wallowing.

I’m better with the fact that when the wallowing was turning to tears I said, “Fuck this. If it’s broken, crying won’t fix it. If it’s actually worth all this fuss then there is no need to cry.”

I got up today and took the damn pill.

I got a card yesterday. It contained 4 magic words.

“U R the best.”

And gottdammit I am.

And once I make myself accept that fact, the rest of the world will fall in line.

So, World? As of now, you are on notice. I am getting ready to kick my own ass and then you and I are going toe to toe. You’ve been warned.

(Thank you for having my back.)

My rope is short and frayed.

I know I should tie a knot and hang on.

But I’m tired.

Tired of trying so hard.

Trying so smart.

Of giving my heart unconditionally.

Scared of conditions.

To lighten the mood, I have a book about suicide that I’m supposed to read for an upcoming post about depression.

Talk about fitting.

The depression part. Not the suicide part. Like I have the energy to plan something that elaborate.

The red flags of depression are flying tho.

Wanting to crawl in bed.

Wanting to seclude myself from the world.

Looking at the cabinet where the happy pills live and just not having the give a fuck enough to open it and take the pill.

So tonight I will wallow in sugar and white flour carbs. Tomorrow I will try better to be gentle with myself.

So. Maria’s daughter Bella got to stand in the hall while her class said the “God is great” prayer before lunch yesterday.

That’s the short version. I’d really recommend going to read Maria’s full version about prayer in a North Carolina elementary school.*

I grew up in a small community, probably much like where Bella goes to school. Everyone I knew went to church. Something of the Christian variety. Our town had no synagogue. Certainly not a Mosque. I remember going to a football game in Branson, Missouri and they prayed for the two teams before the game. Over the public address system. Even at the age of 14 I was like, “Uh. That’s probably not cool with the legal types.” Of course, that was the predominant culture of Southern Missouri, so no one really batted an eyelash over it.

That same year, I attended a lockin sponsored by the Community Ministerial Alliance. Suddenly this Methodist/Disciples/Presbyterian girl was in the midst of Baptists who were talking about hell and Assembly of God people who were waving their hands and testifying during songs. Which pretty much freaked my shit out.

Here we were, all theoretically talking to and about the same God and I was super uncomfortable with how the leaders were going about it.

I still think of that weekend and get a knot in my stomach. I was so uncomfortable. Here I was among friends, in a safe place and I completely freaked out. Of course I could have insisted I was going home – but I kept thinking – this shouldn’t bother me so much, surely it will get better. I also was fascinated, much like a rubber necker watching a crash site.

My mom randomly brought up that retreat just after I wrote this piece – She said she will never forget the sound of my voice, almost in tears saying, “Come. Get. Me.” So I did bail out when I was uncomfortable. I’m proud of myself for that but I wish I remembered that part of the story.

That’s the thing about religion – it’s so intensely personal that one can’t blanket a practice on a large group of people and not get a variety of reactions.

I think it is my responsibility to teach Alex what is important to me when it comes to religion. Which is different from what Scout will teach him about what is important to him when it comes to religion.

Even if it weren’t just completely not legal to lead group prayer in public schools – I wouldn’t want them to do it anyway. Why?

Let’s pick a hot topic. Let’s pick abortion. Just for the dramatic point. Let’s say that you believe that “A”* is absolutely right when it comes to the matter. Your child is in a classroom where in their daily prayer, the leader prays that “B”* will come to pass. I don’t know about you, but I’d be pretty pissed about my Alex sitting in a situation that forced his participation like that.

(*I use “A” and “B” in place of words like “for” or “against” or “choice” or “anti” because I don’t want that example colored by any opinions I may have.)

What if our children were expected to listen to and participate in the prayers of people who agree with and celebrate the 9/11 attacks?

I would never want the children of people dear to me to be sent away so that Alex could say a Christian prayer while their children would rather say a Jewish, Buddhist, Hindi, Muslim or no freaking prayer at all.

I think there was an absence of malice on the part of the teachers. I think they were just “doing things they way they’ve always been done.” That doesn’t make it right, but it at least makes me want to educate some of these people about the laws in a conversation and not a court room.

I know there will be those who take up the flag of objecting to people “banning God from schools”. Those people might even bring up words such as “Columbine”. I’ve heard it before.

To those people, I say this: If you believe that God is with you always, and your children believe that as well, then believe that God is with your children whether or not they say a prayer before lunch while they are at school. The silent prayer between a child and God is sweeter than any noisy gong.

And y’know it’s *legal* too.

*I cited the incorrect county so I pulled that from the link.

“. . .I’m always amazed when people say, “I’m a Christian.” I think, “Already?” It’s an ongoing process . . .” Maya Angelou (online source)

I read that quote some 12 years ago in the early morning light after a night of heartbroken not sleeping. That has stuck with me, giving me permission to have my own thoughts about God.

.

.

I grew up in the Methodist church and was proud of myself early on for being able to say the Traditional Apostles Creed without needing to flip to the back of the hymnal to read it.

.

.

Long ago, I was talking to my mom about paying attention in church – she said she tried to at least pay enough attention to read slightly ahead to make sure she actually believed the words she was reading out loud.

.

.

Huh. Interesting, actually paying attention instead of just droning along. Okay, I’d work on that.

.

.

I still work on that. Often I get into the creed as far as . . .

“‘I believe in God the . . . ‘ . . . yeah okay, I dunno.”

I’m okay with people who believe. I’m okay with people who do not believe. I’m okay with people who question. I believe we all have a path in this life and lessons to learn – and God plays out differently for each of us. Exactly as I think it should be.

.

.

Leslie, Victoria, Loter and I spend time talking God and such – and if you lined us up from least churchy to most churchy – I would be your most churchy among the four.

.

.

In November, Loter and Leslie and I were talking about Anissa – who was still in her coma at that point. I had told the Butterfly Lover’s Grandaughter (who is a nurse) about Anissa, and asked her to tell me straight up what to expect.

.

.

She said, “I will say that the one thing I’ve realized in the past 11 years in the medical field – especially critical care areas – is that there is a much higher power at work than us. Sometimes miracles happen. They really do,  with not much scientific explanation as to why. With that said, it sounds like that is pretty much what your friend is in need of at this time.”

.

.

This led us into the topic of prayer and how Leslie had the #prayersforanissa hashtag up on her screen and watched it all the time of the people praying for Anissa.

.

.

[ed: forgive the bit of choppiness here - I'm taking some of this straight from Skype so I quote the girls exactly.]

.

.

Loter: “My faith has been uber weak for some time now, but I still pray. It’s weird.”

.

.

Leslie: “I mean, even *I* pray . . . it’s comforting . . .plus? . . .I totally think it aligns your mind. I dunno. IT works . . . even if there’s a dial tone at the other end, I don’t care.”

.

.

Dawn: “Yep … meditation … focus….”

.

.

Leslie: “ezzactly! Taking your mind away from the things that are in it daily.”

.

.

Dawn: i actually have issues with praying that i’m trying ot work out

.

.

[Let's note that of the 3 of us - the most churchy of  us has the issues with praying. Let's all laugh together and then get back into it.]

.

.

Dawn: “so I prayed desperately on the ride to the hospital that i would make it in time before dad died . . . didn’t happen . . . and that was the most desperate NEEDful prayer I have ever prayed.”

” people pray for jobs they dont get, for kids who die, and i dont see the point right now . . .like – if you are going to do what you want to do anyway, then why am i giving you my opinion on the matter?

.

.

So we talked about this for a while – Thoughts were thunk and shared.

.

.

Then Lotus said: Well, my old thought was that it was a way to build your relationship with Him, too. To stay connected. Prayer is an ongoing conversation.  I know that Braden wants certain things, but I always want him to speak his desires to me, share them.  Even if I can’t grant them.  I want him to open his heart to me endlessly.

.

.

Lotus had no idea that those words were going to help me so much. I’d forgotten about a RELATIONSHIP.

I know that Braden wants certain things, but I always want him to speak his desires to me, share them.  Even if I can’t grant them.  I want him to open his heart to me endlessly.

These words bring me peace.

.

.

I talk to my friends all the time. Email, Skype, Twitter, blog comments, phones, occasionally even *gasp* IN PERSON! We talk about random shit all the live long day – we have incredibly strong relationships in spite of not being able to tangibly be together often. So why not talk to God the same way?

.

.

I would be absolutely THRILLED to see in my Skype contacts:

Father who art in heaven hallowed be mah DAYUM name

But until that happens, I will be Franny Glass and work on praying without ceasing . . . opening my heart endlessly . . . With my community, I will keep working this out for myself.