Hey there. I have the urge to blog, and that's a good feeling. There are signs of life in me - little green scared shoots, deciding they want to find the sun after all.
There's a lot that's coming together/coming apart for me right now. Good stuff, light surrounding the darkness. Hard to detail each last little bit, so I'll just stick my hand in and see what I pull out for this entry.
I go to an Episcopal church now. To get there on Sunday morning, I drive west toward the Appalachians, and think how soon I'll cross right over them, cross the continent, land somewhere with real mountains. These I'll trample. But for now I'm not there yet. I drive through a pretty little town and crunch into the gravel parking lot and inside is the organ, and the smell of wooden pews, and people wearing vestments. Candles and stained glass and sunlight pouring in. We say a liturgy, kneel to pray, stand to sing, eat His body and blood (gluten-free communion bread for the first time in my life!). Christ is on a cross over the altar. I look at Him and wonder what He would be like in real life. What would He say to me, how would He treat me? My brain takes a break from doctrine. I just need to know what is, not what I have to believe. A heart beats inside each of these symbols, a throbbing flame within a paper-thin shell. Light and life shine through, something real. The rector says I'm absolved, his green-robed arm lifted into the air, and behind him the man on the cross whispers and smiles and says, "Yes, you are absolved."