One year later, the writing resumes. And it’s not appropriate to call my relationship with God broken, but the paint is chipping a little. What’s next?
The last 350 days or so have held a great deal. Professional movement and change, some surprising acts of advocacy and growth, a final sense of detente with the illness that took my leg, and a wrestling match to own my health and move forward…a match I won.
I haven’t set foot in an Episcopal Church since September. My faith in the church as an institution has been tested–and my word, do I have receipts, as they say–even as my sense of God has remained, eager for me to improve and define it, as reticent as I am to do so,
I’m beginning the process of church shopping again–and I’m wondering how that will play out.
At about 4 this morning, the (aggressively odd) film version of Godspell was on television, as I was returning home from the gym. It has a new song in it sung by Victor Garber, ‘Beautiful City’–it’s unremarkable, but got reworked for revivals in the 00s and 10s. It’s got a great bridge, which goes:
When your trust
Is all but shattered
When your faith
Is all but killed
You can give up
Bitter and battered
–Or you can slowly start to build…
And that, effendi, is kinda where I am. It hasn’t been a bad year, but there’s been some transformative connections and equally altering body blows.
But happiness means nothing without sorrow to contrast it.
And I’m still standing; occasionally one-legged, often in a wheelchair, but life is beautiful and worth engaging and discussing.
And here we are. More tomorrow. More always. More life.