I wish I believed

I wrote last night about solving the future sorrow of loss by getting hit by a bus. One of my sisters (the best one if we judge by recent blog comments, not that we would ever judge by that) wrote a wonderful response that I wish I could agree with. Here is my response:

Yeah, I think I am as likely to throw myself in front of a bus as I am to praise God in the dark.

I am not saying there is anything wrong with the dark, but the light is preferable to me. And if God is so omnipotent, surely it would not be a problem to light a candle. Mom will say God can't without disrupting free will, but if God is so great, surely God could figure out a way to light a single freaking candle without breaking all the rules, God's rules. And by lighting a candle I mean fixing me. And by dark I mean the world of disability I navigate, the mutilated world I live in.

And before you say Claren is a candle or Mom or any of the good and wonderful people I know, tell me how they are God's doing? If you allege that God is lighting candles in my life by bringing Claren or others into it, then isn't that proof of the fracturing of free will? Or at the very least aren't you crediting God for something others are doing?

I don't know. I am not a fan of the mutilated world, at least not mine. I think it is far easier to praise the mutilated world when you don't have to live it every second of every day with the only certainty being that you will get more mutilated.

I believe in God with every fiber of my body. I want so much to believe that God is present with us and that God cares. I really struggle with those questions. I feel like Natalie Wood in "Miracle on 34th Street." She is trying to believe in Kris Kringle, and she says: "I believe. I believe. It's silly, but I believe."

I am neither as strong nor as faithful as little Natalie.

Mostly I can't believe you didn't back me up on the Superdance speech.