I am mad at God.
I shouldn't say that, but it's true. When I pray now, I say only two things. "I am sorry. I am trying." and, on occasion, "Don't let me die in a plane crash today. PleasePleaseThankYouAmen."
I don't talk about my beliefs much. Perhaps it's not very Christian of me, but I don't feel like I know all the answers and must convince you that I'm right. Perhaps it's not very Christian of me to swear like a sailor, to call Saved! and Life of Brian two of my top-10 movies, or to religiously watch Bill Maher either (pun intended). Ah well.
My anger stems from two events. One, when trying to get pregnant for the third time last year, I prayed what I felt was an accepting, "thy will be done"-type prayer. All I asked (and begged and pleaded and cried) was that if the baby wasn't meant to work out, that it be over quickly. That it be more like the second pregnancy (chemical) than the first (blighted ovum). Instead, that pregnancy lasted the longest. We saw a heartbeat. We took home the card labeled "baby's first photo." We had hope again. And then we fell off the cliff.
Two, when we got our first adoption referral on our third due date. It felt so much like a sign. A little targeted reassurance from above that everything up to that point happened to bring us together with that child. We had climbed back up the mountain. And then we fell off again.
I still believe there's a capital-P Plan. I have to. I get annoyed when other people presumptuously announce what God's plan is, but I still believe in one. Once I took a survey designed to unearth our "spiritual gifts" and translate them into activities we could do at the church to serve God. I'm a sucker for surveys, so I filled it out, la la la, thinking to myself all the while, "I don't have any spiritual gifts." Tallied it up, and boom. FAITH. Off the charts.
I suppose that was an accurate assessment. Despite my anger, I still have faith. If I had to explain my theory of God, it would be called "Choose your own adventure." Did you read those books as a kid? Where you got to a certain point in the plot and had options to move forward... if you want Alice to take the red pill, turn to page 32. If you want Alice to take the blue pill, turn to page 74. Sometimes after a few choices, the stories all intersected at the same point. And sometimes they led to vastly different stories. (I'll always remember the story where I was a scuba diver. I peeked ahead before choosing my adventure, and the results were (a) I got eaten by a shark; (b) I ran out of oxygen and died; or (c) I returned to the surface too quickly and got "the bends." Where the fuck was the happy ending? A little too much reality for a fourth grader.)
What I mean is that, under my theory, God has a hand in my life and certain elements will happen because they're Meant To Be, but as a whole my life is not predestined. Sometimes, the choices I make create a new branch in the path. I keep walking along, never to revisit any of the what-ifs that lined the branches I chose not to take. And other times, the paths intersect despite my choices. It's both a comforting and frustrating theory. Do you believe in a god? What's your theory on his involvement in your life?
I am grateful for my life. Incredibly grateful. I adore my husband. My immediate family members are all healthy. mrohkay and I make enough money to live comfortably in this city, own a modest condo, and pay for our adoption. We are so lucky.
But I still resent the shit in this Plan. I know that perspective will come in time. Until then I wait it out, and I hope the thunderbolt doesn't strike when I hit "publish" on this post.
Gulp.
