Love God.... and be the example!

I went on a date today… a date with Jesus. Hate to break it to you churchgoers, but He was ridin’ shotgun with me. The AC was blasting, and we were enjoying some quiet time on the backroads of Tom Green County. Forgive me if any of your prayers’ answers were a bit delayed… I really needed Him today, though.

I’ve been confused. I’ve struggled internally for a long time with this whole homosexual equality marriage thing. I have friends who are gay; friends who I love with my whole heart and I don’t WANT to judge them or cast them aside or feel any type of discontent toward their lifestyle. I’m torn between the Christians who say “love the sinner, hate the sin” and the Christians who demand marriage be kept between 1 man and 1 woman. I try to shield myself from the turmoil, but in the end…. I’m still confused. So I brought it to Jesus.

Jesus… what do I do?

And Jesus said to me…. “Love God, and be the example.” Really… it’s all we can do.

We talked further about my personal relationship with Him. I’ve always struggled with whether or not to attend church. In my heart of hearts, I’ve never belonged to a church where I felt accepted. I’ve never felt comfortable among any flock of parishioners. My relationship with God is just that… MINE. It’s personal. When I asked Jesus about this issue, He said to me “Child… when your day of judgment arrives, it is yours and yours alone. The people who may surround you in a church will not be present for this decision. As long as the temple within you is right with Him, then all is well.” I was immediately comforted in the fact that you know what? NOT going to church doesn’t make me any less of a Christian.

I’ve also struggled with the topic of the separation of church and state… Was our country founded on religious beliefs? What is this fight for separation? How do I feel about this? What IS religion? What denomination should I be?

And Jesus said to me…. “Religion is your relationship with God. It should be peaceful and loving, and personal. If you’re uncomfortable in a church, then love Him on your own. If you are fortunate, you will find other likeminded individuals who share the same relationship as you, and this will become your church. At no time should your group of people force your beliefs on any other. Every relationship is different. What is important is that everyone believes. Above all – Love God, and be the example.”

I’m still confused about so much… and every time I opened my mouth to speak I’d lose my train of thought and Jesus would say to me “Just…. Love God, and be the example.” It’s all we can do. Our past is riddled with tragedy and despair… but the future CAN be bright and hopeful… if we can just love God, and be the example.

Redirected Fireflies

It was the first date I ever went on. We drove in his white pickup truck to the top of the hill and parked and let the tailgate down. We piled in the back with pillows and blankets, and he sipped his Schlitz while I munched on Junior Mints and we waited until the sun set low. When the last of the day had slipped away, we lay back on our pillows and he reached for my hand, and we lost ourselves in the universe.

He pointed out Orion… He scooped me up in the Little Dipper and we were guided by the North Star. We sailed the Milky Way on cosmic waves, all the while my little hand held tightly in his grasp. I closed my eyes and I could feel my heart smiling. We spoke of the past, and of the present and future. He laughed, and then I laughed, and then we stopped laughing as part of the universe faded from sight.

These motionless fireflies that lit the night sky… they lived, and they died, in seasons. What brought them to Earth? Did they travel home for a reason? What if they didn’t fall down at all? What if they just fell away, to another place? Redirected fireflies… Perhaps it was just their time to shine from another position in that vast openness.

We lay there, our eyes fixed on the shower of fireflies, waiting for the next and then the next and then the next to fall away. We followed them until they burned out of sight, hoping to catch a glimpse of one’s new position… looking for hope that there was no death in these stars, only eternal light. We frantically searched for signs of a new glow, one that belonged to a firefly that redirected nearer thee. Mostly, we just held hands and took in the world around us.

In the middle of this night, with legs dangling over the edge of the Little Dipper, surrounded in the Milky Way… I think of my father and the night we sailed the cosmic waves. I see the North Star and I wave at him, knowing that he’s redirected there, to guide me home.

Alone on the Apron

            The deity entered the theater carrying an armload of happiness to bestow upon the ticketholders. She made her way down the long corridor that led to backstage and before she could draw open the curtains, a gasp echoed through the open auditorium and she noticed that the spotlight was trained on center stage… She quietly positioned herself at the edge of the front row and watched as the child sat, broken, alone on the apron. The deity’s armload of happiness spilled to the floor as innocence ascended and the lights faded to black.

            Enveloped in the darkness, there was a lack of breath within the deity. Tears splashed over her cheeks as the grave reality of what she’d just witnessed bore into her being like nails on the crucifix. This child; this very pillar of faith had been raped of her purity. The instruments by which she would discover the world had been stolen and her broken figure is all that remained of her beginning. The deity searched within herself, frantically trying to identify a way to travel time. In that moment of breathlessness and troubled heart, she willed her abilities to the child and pleaded instead to remove the weight of such casualty from the child’s responsibility.

            The apron sat abandoned under the dim light of the theater. The deity remained unmoved in the seat she’d taken at the edge. Her mind was clouded with confusion and anger. She demanded explanation from the gods. What purpose could this tragedy possibly serve? What lessons needed to be taught or learned by destroying a child’s canvas. She wrung her washcloth eyelids and straightened her face and set about to right the wrongs of the gods before her.

            The deity leaned forward and gathered the happiness that had vomited to her feet; these small symbols of kindness that she’d meant to gift to theater ticketholders in order to emit a smile. She examined the plush figures with sewn on smiles and beaded eyes. She lifted them to her heart and hugged them tightly, summoning a dying joy within her. Armed with remnants of innocence, the deity set off for the dressing room in search of the broken child. Encased in fluorescent lights and white walls, she stopped before the only closed door in the hallway. Knocking, the door opened and the deity was invited to enter.

            Their eyes met. The deity and the child spoke separate languages, however words were not needed. The deity felt useless with her armload of happiness. What could a plush, pink puppy possibly bring to a child who could not hold it? The child was accompanied by an older gentleman of relation. The deity looked to him for some form of understanding… explanation… grief… acceptance… Was he ok with this? Was the CHILD ok with this? Was her will to live completely gone?

            They deity approached the child. She revealed the armload of happiness and sought forgiveness for not being able to give more. She was taken aback by the reality that while she was offering choice, the child was unable choose. They froze in that moment of give and take. The deity looked to the relation and begged intervention. The relation inquired and the child, with voice, chose the pink puppy. The deity set the plush dog beside her and stepped away. Tears brimmed in the eyes of the older pillars. Once again, the lights faded to black and the child took her place alone, on the apron. A small candle took the place of the spotlight as she laid her head on her pillow and the relation tucked the pink dog beside her to sleep. A remnant of innocence beside a sad truth of ugly war. 

When Superheroes Die

            There’s a place where children go when their superheroes are dying. It’s a place filled with profound knowledge and limited solace; a place where humans cannot reach them… a place where friends cannot disturb them. A place for reflection, so deep inside themselves that only the children who go their can find their way back again. I know of this place, because I have been there.

            He wore an actual cape, once. He was a young boy of 5 or 6 in the 1950’s, and he donned this cape and rode his stick horse and proclaimed “I am Superman!” Even then, he knew he was destined for greatness. I wonder if he knew that the superhero he pretended to be and the superhero who watched over me were one and the same.

            Superman took me under the protection of his cape. He flew me around the world within the walls of his mind. He shared his wealth of truths with me, never holding back to protect my innocence or ignorance. He showed me falling stars, sunrises, and sunsets. He inspired great passions within my tiny heart. He instilled strength in my immature frame – taught me never to cower. At a young age, I flew beside him to take in the world… I devoted myself to being as great as he was. Little did I know that the amount of time I’d have to learn all I wanted from him would be cut drastically short by mortal poisons.

            I watched as humans frantically tried to shield me from what I already knew. I was his understudy… we talked without speaking. Our eyes met that afternoon and I instantly saw his light begin to flicker, as though a storm were brewing within him. His brow furrowed, and his throat lurched as he swallowed his uncertainty. It was disheartening to see Superman afraid. It was in that brief moment without words that he passed his cape to me. Alone, but surrounded by the humans, he watched silently as I secured it around my shoulders. He straightened his brow and nodded his head in an unspoken agreement that protection fell to me now.

            I took this veil and I immediately retreated to the place where children go when their superheroes are dying. I closed the iron doors and locked them. I fell to my knees and covered myself in his shroud, taking in the smell of him. I willed my focused thoughts in his direction, praying that they’d connect with him and we’d continue to communicate on a separate plane than the humans.

            For half a year, I spent the majority of my hours in the place where children go. I sat in a dark corner just out of reach from the light. I stared at dead space that my breath interrupted and watched as dust particles caught the rays of the sun and fell like glitter to my feet. This place whispered truths far greater than I wished to bear, and these truths couldn’t be seen here in this unlit crevice … only felt. I sat, holding this heartbreak for an eternity. All the while, my mind flashed back to every lesson Superman had ever bestowed upon my curious and courageous spirit. Great teachings of life, love, honor, dignity, pride, self respect, protection, acceptance…

            On the other side of this locked cavern, my superhero diminished; his immortality besieged. His resilience lay conquered. The mortal poisons invaded him like a rolling fog on the sea. Every breath of life that he could summon only further fed the killing thing.  I feared to witness the tragedy beyond the iron doors of my safe haven. I believed so strongly in our immortality… our invincibility. I was convinced that Superman could conquer even this.

            Humans summoned me from my chambers, occasionally. I honored their requests and made brief appearances in order to assess the situation and monitor the needs of the people that Superman once protected. His responsibilities fell to me and I would be failing him and his people if I locked myself away completely. I would hold my breath upon exiting the place where children go. I closed my eyes when I passed him because there’s an unwritten code in superhero literature that an understudy mustn’t bear witness to the failing powers of the ones before them. I took nourishment and cleansed myself on the outside of my walls. I engaged in brief conversation. I forced a smile upon my face so the humans with white coats wouldn’t invade my realm. When the humans were satisfied with my presence, I made peace with an exit and quietly tucked myself away beneath my cape, in the dark corner behind the locked iron doors.

            Sometime on the last night, I startled from an exhausted sleep by the wind that howled through the dark corner like a wolf unto the moon. Whispers were carried by this breeze… under the iron doors and across the silent, dead space. The words of Superman danced upon my eardrums, reminding me to step into the light when the day arrived… to take the sun’s rays upon my face and let them guide me to the places I would be needed as time passed by. Anxious tears stained my cheeks as I listened to the winds howling outside the place where children go when their superheroes are dying. I watched as the crack beneath the door changed from night to day, and when the winds stopped howling, I lifted my head and emerged from hiding.

            …Superman failed to inform me of one awesome truth… When I emerged from the place where children go - the world would be entirely mine, and I would be entirely on my own.