Motherhussy

Holy Reading

Recently I’ve been turned on to the author Anne Lamott. I’m sure that some of you have read her stuff, but if you haven’t I highly recommend it. Her writing is a pure, unadulterated, insanely humorous joy to read. I’m not talking about the cheesy, manipulative “Chicken Soup for the Suicidal Soul” or anything like that. I’m talking about they type of joy that you experience when you find out that the neighbor you thought was perfect in every way, is actually having an affair with the sleazy guy at the used Honda car lot in Lomita—that type of joy. I think it’s referred to as “Shadenfreude”.

Some of the joy I derive from her books stems from the fact that she and her son either get along wonderfully, or don’t get along at all. I experience that on a daily basis with Cody and Colton and I used to think that I was bi-polar parenting and needed to get back on drugs, or start drinking again on a regular basis. Come to find out it’s semi-normal to one minute wish you had sold your children on the black market for a sizable sum, and the next minute wish that you had a millions of dollars so you could buy a small island for your children to rule exactly as they pleased. I just thought I was going insane. I know, I know. It’s old news to many parents that parenting is both an eternal albatross and a blessing lottery at the same time. But to me, I feel I’m just becoming aware of the fact that it’s okay not to always enjoy what I’m doing as a mother, and wish for something else. I think it’s only fair for me to feel this way since often I am told, “Mom, you’re the best mom on the whole-wide-world” and then seven minutes later I’m told, “You’re the worst freaking Mom ever!” Usually the second phrase is accompanied by a door slamming, and/or something cute and stuffed being thrown hard enough to leave marks on exposed skin.

Another reason I find joy in Anne’s books (yes, we’re on a first name basis now) are her views on religion and faith. She has a way of describing Jesus, God, and Saints so they aren’t scary. I’ve been brought up thinking that 99% of the time God wanted to kick my ass for something. I’ve been brought up thinking that I’m a sinner, and as hard as I try I will never be what I ought to be. To me religion, and all the commandments that come along with believing, felt like someone telling me that I have to dig to the center of the molten Earth with a KFC spork, and once I started digging with the spork—I was told that I could never do it, that I would never make it to the center of the Earth—but keep on going anyway, jackass. It seemed pointless. So, when it came to religion in the past—I just gave up. It was easier to just pull away from organized religion and try my best to abstain from murder, adultery, and prison. I could do that. Once I pulled away from the scary God—I started forming my opinion on what my God was like. Yes, my God. My personal belief is that since we are all unique like snowflakes, and none of us are exactly alike in thought, spirit, or being—that we must have our own unique relationship with God, our own God. My God was going to be a kind, understanding, easy-going, accepting (but not too accepting) God—for starters. This is the type of God I find throughout Anne Lamott’s books. In one her book “Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith” she writes about Jesus maybe not always going to the mountains to pray when things got heavy, but possibly instead throwing back a beer or two and “then he may have gone bowling, slinging the ball bitterly down the alley until he felt better.” I like that visual a lot.

As a few of you know, I’ve been experiencing religion again—it seems for the first time. I’m experiencing religion with a pair of “just woken up” eyes. I’m looking around and religion is everywhere. It’s in the news, it’s on the streets, and it’s in every single person in the world. Even the absence of religion is a religion in itself. I’m not necessarily considering myself “born again” or anything of that nature—just becoming aware. In this time of my personal religious awareness, it’s nice to have an author like Anne Lamott who can in one sentence be writing about coming down off of cocaine, and in the next sentence be writing about the grace of God. Isn’t that when we need God the most anyway, when we are at our worst? When we hate ourselves and our surroundings, when we think that we’ve sunk the deepest we can sink, when we think that there is nobody there that understands—that’s when we need to find a God we can have a beer and go bowling with.



p.s. readers: Did I mention that I didn't find Anne Lamott on my own? A BIG thank you, thank you, thank you to Katherine for turning me on to Anne! (how's that for props?)

posted by Anonymous @ 12:52 PM