All Teeth and Toenails, Part Deux

This is what I meant to post when I got all ranty, instead. Your pardon; it's awful and I wouldn't blame you if you skipped it. I thought about not posting it but sometimes I need to shout into the aether.

Crawling my way out of the depression to post. I've been horrendous about posting, commenting, replying to comments; I'm getting through comments now and I swear I'll respond.

What with the job thing and the Kerfluffle (not to mention missing church for three weeks in a row due to a variety of things) I've also found that I'm drifting away from God -- some days managing no more than a muttered 'Our Father' before drifting off into sleep. And I'd stopped even thinking about the vocation -- if I cause this level of dissension just being, how much worse would it be with the ordination to boot? How is it serving God to go around provoking people to yell at each other?

I hear, by the way, that people are being nasty about the whole thing. Please don't. It doesn't help either (any?) side of the discussion. No scolds of sermons or anything, just: Please don't.

Going back to church this Sunday has helped, somewhat. It was welcoming and familiar and exactly what I needed. Nothing huge and powerful, just home. Familiar ritual, familiar songs, the sermon and the Eucharist, greetings from the people there who have already become dear to me. I want to get more involved, but again I hold back: what if they found out? What if they rejected me, too?

Monday I'd planned to run some errands, get some things done around the house, and then go to an SCA picnic with Tim and Ray. Instead, round about noon I got into the car and just drove west. Up into the mountains, from which comes my help; my help comes from the Lord. I drove up Trail Ridge Road into the park, not stopping until I was nearly at the top; but along the way I passed a car accident. It was well under control, with sufficient EMTs to handle the medical end and plenty of people to direct traffic and such. I thought back to a post I read recently -- can't for the life of me remember where -- in which the lady blogger, a nurse and priest both, pulled over to offer to help. And while I'm not a nurse, I could always offer prayers -- but as a layman, I'd only be in their way, just another 'civilian' to worry about and trip over.

In this case, it seems the priesthood is merely a tool to reassure others, a badge of 'it's okay, I'm with God'. I could still pray for the hurt person, for those caring for him -- and I did -- but without that badge, I didn't feel that I could stop and offer my help. Is that all it is?

I don't think so, but it did get me thinking about the whole concept again. And I'm glad. I needed to be reminded, because with everything else I've got going on, I'd forgotten.

I kept driving, and didn't stop until I was above eleven thousand feet. I pulled into a space at a stop I hadn't been to before, and visited with the chipmunks for a while before setting off on a little windy half-mile path through the tundra. Even on a weekday the place was packed and I had little hope of solitude, but I struck up a conversation with a guy with a camera and an eye for the small things. Pointed out some maroon flowers he'd missed; he promised to send me copies once he'd downloaded them. I enjoyed it, especially since that's exactly the sort of pictures Tim likes to take.

Once he'd gone I spent a while climbing around on the rocks. Now that I've remembered how -- trust your feet, trust the rocks, as I learned once, and forgot -- I find it immensely calming. Everything centers down to move one hand, then one foot; lift your head just enough to see the next handhold. Gritty sandstone and smooth chunky granite, reds and blacks and gleaming white. Lichens in improbably bright colours and tiny threads of plants growing out of places where no life should be able to survive. I found a little niche in the rock and sat there, gazing out across the mountains from what felt like the roof of the world, to meditate a while. To my surprise what came to my mind was a chant to Ganesh that I'd learned a while ago and hadn't used in months. So that's what I chanted -- is it wrong to ask Ganesh to intercede with God, as if he were one of the Christian saints? I'm not sure myself, but it felt right in that moment. And walking back down the path, even surrounded by people, I felt the lightening of heart that I always get from walking in nature.

Of course, not only did I miss the picnic, I didn't even have cell reception to call Tim and let him know I wasn't going to make it. Fortunately, I'm not now involved with someone who'll blow up at me and call me names for that sort of thing (though I wouldn't have been surprised if he was a little upset at not knowing where I was). I had just about enough energy to drive home and eat popcorn for dinner before passing right out for the night.

I'm trying to get back on track with my faith; I don't want to risk forgetting about God again. Of course, I'm also trying to get a job, trying to go back to school, trying to keep my relationships together while trying to figure out if that's even wise...but that was another post, wasn't it?

I just heard back about an application I put in for an admin job at Colorado University. They want me to show up next Thursday for testing related to the job -- an arithmetic test and an 'administrative support basic' test. I should kick ass on both of those, so I've a good feeling about it. And working at the university should get me a goodly discount on tuition, yes?

Course, Thursday is also the day my mom arrives from Pennsylvania for her visit. Nothing simple, huh? Hope she gets in in the evening. If no, I'll give her directions to Pearl Street and she can shop until I'm done. Or maybe just leave a key with Ray and let her get settled in at my place...

Hanging in there.