Put the blame on Mame, boys. Put the blame on Mame...
Surprise, Surprise! Someone paid for us to come up to Virginia for a week to visit with friends and family! So at the moment, I am sitting in a house surrounded by trees on top of a mountain. Beautiful.
We got the news on Tuesday, and we left on Thursday. When we found out, I cheekily told my pop that maybe we were fired from our jobs and thrust into an uncomfortable lifestyle just so we could make this trip.
I like to joke around at the pockets of the people who believe that everything happens for a reason, whether tragic or happy. Bare with me. I don't claim to have it all figured out. It's clearly not 'my way or the highway' (thank God)...But when people like to give me their personal comments about how God has 'given' my ma major sickness since I was 9 for a reason...it starts to get personal, and it starts me thinking. God lets baby girls in Thailand be prostituted to rich German and American business men. God lets beautiful women be raped and bitten- as a mark of rape, in Darfur...all for a reason? What is this incredibly amazing reason that such a majority of people speak of? How can we believe and trust and love a 'god' who would willingly choose these things to happen...turn his face away...all for some greater good?
Maybe a better question...is that really faith? To just blindly decide that everything happens for a reason? I think that takes the pressure off of faith. Instead of realizing that we live in world that is falling to pieces more and more everyday and taking responsibility for our basically un-good nature, we decide that it's God's will and that's it.
It helps numb the pain to be able to blame Him, though. Doesn't it? Instead of facing the raw reality of living, we take our medicine with a spoonful of sticky sweet religion.
If we could just open our eyes...we could realize how desperate things are. Maybe then we would realize the urgency and emotion behind the words Jesus spoke when he said to go into all the world and share His love.
When we reject reclining in the comfortable bed of placing the blame on God, we can truly begin to experience life. It hurts. It hurts like hell. But it is also more beautiful. Suddenly, actions take meaning. Words become poetry. We realize that life isn't waiting in line, but a dance. It's a beautiful dance with our creator.
Shall we dance?