Gospel Changes Meaning

Well here I am, another Sunday upon me.  I decided this morning not to go to church because I was too ill.  I had someone (in their infinite wisdom) tell me that if I’m not feeling well that’s the best time to go to church.  Once there the spirit can lift me up and help me overcome the discomfort.  It also may even temporarily cure me so I can benefit from the meetings.  Perhaps this would be true if I were one hundred percent faithful and pious.  Perhaps it would be true if the service were brief with no dress clothes expectations.  As it is, I’m far from perfect and the service is three stinking hours long.  I dislike being gussied up in tight and uncomfortable dresses or skirts and heels when I feel this way.  I much prefer my comfy clothes and couch.  My church service was watching Monty Python skits on my couch while I cuddled up in my jammies, hair and make up undone while I clutched my favorite blanky.  I justified to myself that there’s much mention of god in Monty Python sketches so that counts as BlanketGirl church.

The other issue today is that this particular Sunday is the day reserved for fasting within the certain religion I’m lurking in.  Once a month everyone fasts to increase their faith and help give a higher advantage to prayer answering and gifts of blessing.

I don’t usually participate.  Last night I had decided that there were some things I would like to have handled by a higher being.  I thought I’d fast.  I went to bed last night fully expecting to follow through and a bit pleased with myself that I had made plans to go through with it.

This morning I woke up, wandered into the kitchen and ate something to take my medications.  As I swallowed the pills I realized I’d blown it.  In my zealous thoughts last night I’d completely forgotten about my medications requiring food.  I couldn’t go without eating something.  Damn.  I guess the extras won’t be given to me since the pill taking won’t be going away in the foreseeable future.

I wonder what the position is on that?  Would god do me a solid and let me eat enough for the pills to be kind to my stomach lining, as long as there were no substantial meals and snacks?  I’ll have to find out.  In the meantime fasting is out.

I keep rolling religion around in my mind.  What does it mean to me?  I’m not really sure.  Since I grew up within a strict background of veneration I feel driven to  worship but divided by my own convictions or lack there of.  I’m in the same weird religious place I’ve been in for a long time.  I’ve struggled for years to try and find my religious identity.  The religion I grew up with is like a soft pair of slippers I’ve owned for years.  They are comfortable, albeit torn and ugly with an annoying hard knobby thing in the corner near my big toe.  The knobby rubs at my toe the wrong way and leaves a sore spot every time I wear them.  In contrast, other churches feel like new bright red five inch pumps with tight toe spaces.  They make me feel uncomfortably aware of my feet and cause me to lose my balance.  Eventually I may like them but for now they’re conspicuous and hard to walk in.  Plus they squeeze my feet.  I’m not sure if it’s good to go to the same church I was raised in because it’s familiar, or if it’s bad because I could be missing out on a whole world of other religions that may suit me better.

Where are there are two desires in a man’s heart he has no choice between the two but must obey the strongest, there being no such thing as free will in the composition of any human being that ever lived.
Mark Twain in Eruption

The easy confidence with which I know another man’s religion is folly teaches me to suspect that my own is also. I would not interfere with any one’s religion, either to strengthen it or to weaken it. I am not able to believe one’s religion can affect his hereafter one way or the other, no matter what that religion may be. But it may easily be a great comfort to him in this life–hence it is a valuable possession to him.
Mark Twain, a Biography

I’ll continue thinking about it and maybe someday I’ll have an answer.

An hour of my day was dedicated to finishing the blue afghan for Oldest.  It’s obvious to me it’s the first one I’ve ever made but to everyone else it’s a work of art and a thing of beauty.  It’s cozy and soft and really I’m the only one who can see the flaws because I know what to look for.  I’m my harshest critic.  I’m happy Oldest likes it so much.  She’s sleeping with it tonight.  Youngest is very jealous and can’t wait for hers to be complete.  She  selected pink and purple yarn.  I’ll start knitting it tonight.  I’ve decided to use a different pattern for the next one.  It’s going to be more ribbed than the first.   Here’s pictures of my handiwork:

blue afghan 1blue afghan twoYay knitting!  Boo religion!


~ by blanketgirl on May 3, 2009.

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