Faith

As I was given the gift of time this morning, to catch up with an "old" friend, my day began on a note of renewal and with that, a desire to examine something bigger. As the day progressed, I was surprised by how easily the universe merged events to make that happen. I'm once again struck by the nature of people who have to deal with the unimaginable and I am awestruck by their ability to grieve and even accept what is happening to them, both while it is happening and after the fact. Their strength gives me hope and their hardships, maybe even ironically, give me faith.

I haven't had to suffer hardships. I am the product of middle class parents and I was fortunate enough to grow up in a good neighborhood where it was typical to stay out until "the streetlights" came on and not have to have your parents checking on you to make sure that you weren't kidnapped or that some crazy ass pedophile had dragged you into their basement. My parents paid for me to go to college and I was taken to church, to girl scouts, to grandparents' houses. Incidentally, I still have three grandparents and I'm 41. Unusual to say the least. I grew up with aunts and uncles and cousins around and even today, I run into people all the time who I grew up with or who I played soccer with; hell, the mayor of Torrance was one of my all time favorite AYSO coaches when I was a kid and I am friends with his daughter! Sometimes my upbringing makes me think of that Waltonesque kind of small town existence and although Torrance has certainly changed, it is still not without that small town feel and today was no exception. I am fortunate, I know that and I try very hard to not take things for granted. But, as I was speaking with a woman tonight, who has become a close friend (again, I am lucky), I was reminded that sometimes I have to make a conscious effort to not take those I love for granted and to step back and forgive those who take me for granted. Today and tonight, with two different stories of two completely different people, one who I've met and one who I haven't, I am forced to consider my faith once again; in myself, in people and in God.

Being without hardships growing up does not a better person make, but, if one has perspective or if one gains it as she grows and learns, then I think that she will develop the empathy that could potentially propel her to a level of understanding where her own personal experiences don't matter as much as HOW she reacts to others and the struggles that they are facing. It is a conscious choice that one makes; are you sorry? Or, do you actually feel sorrow; when you walk away after hearing the story, does it make you want to help, does it make you want to care, does it make you wish that you could close your eyes, put your hands together and pray them back to themselves? Maybe it doesn't do any of those things and maybe you just walk away, glad that it isn't you, but still feeling "bad" for what the family is going through. Does that make you a superficial person? Does it make you without empathy? Or, does it just make you human? I'm inclined to believe that it could be all of them.

I was raised a Catholic, which, meaning "universal" doesn't do much for me, just as a definition. I mean, we're all human. Hence, "universal"; doesn't really do anything for me to bind me to the person next door you know? But what my parents gave me and what the church has given me, through Mass and through the Sacraments and through the steadfast hands of teachers, coaches and religious education and, most importantly, through a crisis of faith in my early adult years, I've arrived at a place where I understand how my faith serves me and how it serves those who know me. I used to think that everyone who wasn't a Catholic was taking the express elevator straight to hell. I mean, we are the chosen people, are we not? But, after years of listening and talking and reading and research, I now understand that it isn't the institution, it's the message and, more than that, it's the person sending the message. If you had nuns beating your hands with rulers or priests who were taking you into the rectory without your consent, then the message certainly was something altogether different and, it goes without saying, unspeakable. But, if you had someone who handed you a Bible when you were 7 and who told you that it was okay to question things that you'd read and to ask when something didn't make sense or if you had a priest tell you, when you were 20 and weeping in the confessional about how you were starting to lose your faith and that you didn't know where to turn, that it was good to question your faith, that it would make you stronger in the end, when you needed it the most, because when you accepted it, if you did, that it would then matter. To have people like that to guide you, well, let's just say, faith is renewed in the examples of those people. One of my favorite neighbors, who was my eighth grade CCD teacher, Mr. Ben Aranda who passed away several years ago, gave us report cards. He gave us actual grades for a once a week religion class and he told us to remember why we'd gotten the grade that we had and I learned more from that man about the power of faith, just by his example than anything he ever read from a book. I miss him, as do many of those in my community these days, especially his family and those kids he helped to learn about God.
I remember making a decision to accept that there are many kinds of faith and that it isn't about a building; a synagogue and a church are the same to me. Even, currently the debate over the construction of the Mosque so close to the 9/11 site. Not all is one and one is not all. I guess, because faith is not religion to me, religion does not then define my faith; it is simply a piece of the puzzle that connects me to the God I believe in and to the beliefs that define me. I've been taught many things that I'd like to forget. I've learned how to hate, how to hold a grudge, how to be cruel, spiteful, racist and vain. And while I'm not proud of any of those things, I am proud of the fact that I recognize them as weaknesses and I make a conscious effort to try not to be or to do them. Sometimes I fail and then I pray or I ask for forgiveness or I kiss my children, but I remind myself that to believe in something, is to simply believe that something is possible.

Today, I watched a gathering of people, who were trying to raise money for a boy, now a man, with a family of his own, who suffers needlessly from a disease that will take his life early and, you know, it's unfair. When you hear his story, you immediately want to ask, "Why him?" or you want to say, "God, that poor guy" but then, you read his blog or you meet him or you talk to his friends or family and, it's like an answer has been revealed. Jason will die, just like we all will and he knows from what and maybe even when and yes, he will leave behind his wife and his young son and many, many people who love him. And, it's completely unfair; it just is. But listening to people talk about him today and reading his words as he's chronicled his life with ALS and remembering him as a kid, I'm learning from him, even though I haven't seen him or spoken to him in many years. And through his suffering and through his eventual death, I've learned that some people are chosen because of their abilities to exemplify dignity, decency, promise, hope and, faith. Jason is a man of substance and his struggle binds us all together and makes us realize that life is fleeting and passing by so quickly. And,that maybe, if we just stopped, and looked around, that those days of staying out until dark would somehow bring us back to that place of worship that we all long for; a desire to connect with one another and to be a part of something bigger. Through Jason's journey, he's brought people and lives together that might have never been re-connected and the courage that he has displayed in his physical, emotional and mental struggle is no less than astounding. For me, he both personifies and humanizes faith. He's made me believe that it all counts, every second and there is never a moment when you have to say, "I can't take it back or I don't want to apologize"; you can always take it back, you can always apologize. It's never too late. It means something to me to write it down because he means something to me; his whole family does. I pray for Jason and his family and I pray not that he won't die, but, instead, I pray that he finds some peace knowing that his journey has changed many lives and that his son, through all of the people who know and love his father, will learn what a wonderful human being Jason is... I pray that Jason has faith in the moments when he doubts it the most and I pray that his family does too.

Maybe faith isn't something that comes from what you've learned, but instead from what you haven't. It's like swinging on a vine and then reaching for the next one, knowing it's there, within reach, but then, not really sure if you're going to catch it. By repeating the process, as the vines continue to be there, pretty soon you just swing without looking, that is, until one is missing or broken or isn't where it's supposed to be, maybe shorter or old or longer than it should have been, then your faith is tested once again, hopefully until the day that you reach again and your hand clasps a strong, green, vibrant vine... maybe it really is that simple. But maybe, if it were that simple, then there would be no reason to believe at all. Maybe it has to be difficult and challenging and painful in order for it to have meaning and, really, couldn't we say that about anything worthwhile in life?

Lastly, a friend and I had a conversation about children and love and God today. And, it wasn't a long talk, but listening to her and watching her face as she told me a heart-wrenching story and how very personal it was, I was once again humbled by the strength of people who are thrust into unimaginable situations and who deal with them with the kind of grace and dignity that you wish for, that you pray for when you will need them the most and, in this case, it is my friend who displays these qualities; it is her willingness to help and to give of herself that moves me. The selflessness of people who have to watch their friends suffer and who then, willingly offer their shoulders and their tears as comfort without any knowledge that it will help at all? It is incredible and astounding and it is those moments and those people who define my faith, who make me know, in my heart and in my mind that God exists; that prayers and unity and worship unite us, even those who weren't taught to believe in a "formal" setting. Religion might just be the opiate of the masses, but faith is not. Faith is the rehab that keeps us wanting to try to be better; keeps us coming back, despite it all.

Tonight I will pray for Jason and for a mother who lost a child, but I will also pray for those wonderful people who support them, who love them and who will grieve with them and for them, despite the un-fairness, despite the pain, despite the fear. I pray that when I am faced with a hardship that I will remember what I just wrote and that I will not waver when it matters the most...