I really feel like I would like to sit and have coffee with Anne Lamott. I don’t really drink coffee. That seems pretentious. Maybe, we could meet for a fantastic vegan meal, or I could clumsily trip after her up the hill to where she feels most connected to God. Maybe I would remember better what it is like to feel connection to words, or God, or another person, or the air around me. I feel so suspended by this year, and all that it has held. I feel old and disconnected. I feel numb. But this week, I had time to read while my children slept. I was alone fighting my four children to let go of the day and sleep. Unfortunately, that battle was not for the restoration and rest of their own bodies but my own greedy need for space. So I read. Anne Lamott. And she may have saved my Christmas. I felt more sane, or at the very least less crazy. Which speaks volumes. Historic volumes.
She convinced me that I was human. And normal. Riddled with mistakes and failures. And somewhat like her. Which is fantastic when you convince yourself that you are a freak and a lonely one at that rate. She kindly reminded me that in my humanity, I held a cacophony of songs. Anger, grief, hope, fear, and faith no matter how fragile it seems. She reminded me that I have songs of worship to sing to a God that loves my spirit and that calls me to live and sing these songs. She reminded me that liberals can love Jesus, and do love Jesus. She reminded me that kids make you crazy and sometimes fuck is the most appropriate word. And that our children love us and forgive us more than we love and forgive ourselves. She confided, just me, that although she loved her son, he made her crazy. She reminded me of dogs and who they are to people. She encouraged me to make peace with my body and said plainly that you have to exercise everyday and that these two things can coexist. She talked to me about answering God’s insane calling. For her it was starting a Sunday School, for me… it is having four children that need so much. And that sometimes you just sit in shame, and God meets you there. And that church is a place to seek refuge because those people love Jesus and would like to love me.
When I read, I felt peaceful. I think God borrows other people’s words to speak to us. He borrowed Anne Lamott’s humor and gravity. And I missed God. And I missed me. And that people around me miss me. And, I have to breath my way out of this thing I feel choking me all the time these days. I remembered that I have friends that like her, and like me, and are like me. And when I don’t seek these people out, I feel like I am suffocating.
So, tonight I wrote a shitty rough draft. And I drank some wine. And I sat in the hallway listening to Iliana struggle to not vomit. I listened to Neil Young et all… and I prayed. And breathed. And made space for me to exist.
Whew! Amen.
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