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I spent this morning being productive: making tzatziki and chapati dough. I think I was a little too heavy handed with the water in the chapati, but it should be fine. I’m not convinced you’re supposed to let it sit in the fridge all day before you cook it, but I have such a hard time actually making things after work.  This way it will be ready to cook up on the stove top. (In this heat, I am avoiding the oven like the plague.)

In other notes, not about food, I am feuding with our mailman at work.  Okay, my office is with me in the feud, but I am the one doing the work.  I used to feel friendly toward unions, but now I’m starting to hate them.  Because the USPS union is the reason he’s still on our route.  I have written so many letters, made so many phone calls.  I have sent copies of my correspondence to the Office of the Inspector General, the Consumers Affair Office for our post office, and the General Postmaster (twice for him).  Every time the postman gets talked to, he ups his game.  But not as in does a better job: no, thinks of new ways to mess with us and our mail.  I am going crazy. 


A quote from Thomas Merton:
“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not actually mean that I am doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.”

I have long loved that quote. And I think it explains how I reconcile some of my social views with my theological ones.

Anyway, today I tried out a new church. A United Methodist church, actually. I was sort of wary, probably because many years ago I would have never gone to a UM church. But I went, and it was the perfect blend of liturgy and relaxed presentation. Their associate reverend is a woman. And they’re okay with people’s sexual orientation and gender identity being non-mainstream. [Side note: I am oddly leery of churches who agree with my social inclinations. I think I worry that they will then disregard their bibles dreadfully. But this does not seem to be the case. Yet.] The music was enjoyable, the people were welcoming. It was a positive experience, which is becoming rare for me at church.

I am going to go back next week. And probably the week after that, and after that. I may have found my place. Until I move, that is.

I am hoping to move back north, closer to my family and friends (the ones in this state, anyway). Of course, it may take me some time (forever) to find a job, so… We’ll see.

So I’ve been doing some thinking about church.

I’ve decided that I have to put forth a real effort to find one, and to actively engage with my faith.  The first part will mean that I try a new church every weekend (unless honest-to-goodness circumstances prevail).  The second part will mean that I get back into a habit of reading my bible and praying.  Even when I don’t feel like it.  (Which is always, lately.)

I just don’t believe that faith is something you do when you feel like it or when the notion strikes.  It’s a real, every day thing.  And I believe it wholeheartedly.  So why am I so unwilling?

I would still maintain that I have good reasons to sort of check-out.  But even if the reasons are good, they’re not good enough.  Right?  This doesn’t mean that I throw myself into a church with blinders on (heavens, no), but I have to try to get back to a healthy place, at least.

It sounds like so much work.  I remember when these things weren’t work, but delight.  I want them to be delight again.

While I know that I solely am responsible for my actions, I still hate that it has been my fellow (so-called) Christians that have brought me to this place.

Here’s to hoping.