A picture is worth a thousand prayers

I'm real sorry I went quiet last week. I wasn't trying to scare anyone.

Really, I'm ok. If my silence unsettled any of you, I apologize. Sometimes when you're not sure what to say, it's best not to say anything. So yeah, I've been letting things settle or "Processing" as the professionals call it.

Last week a friend opined that she was amazed that I wasn't a permanent candidate for a walking case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I covered my fear really quick like and laughed her suggestion off. I didn't want her to know just how unsettling her assessment was. Yet internally I admit I've been doing a lot of asking God what the purpose behind all this shitstorm that masquerades as life, specifically MY LIFE, really is.

My mom asked me a few weeks back if I was really seeking and talking to God. I know she meant that whole humble down on your knees, praying "pretty please help me God" bit. I didn't have the heart to tell her that most of my prayers have involved cussing. I say naughty words to God all the time. I don't curse at Him. Duh, I am not totally dumb. But I do cuss in my prayers.

Cuss words are often the only words that truly describe the huge stinking mess that is the universe. I don't think the word "smite" is nearly as effective in prayer as the words "shit on".

I quit beating around the bush. These days I talk to God even if I don't have something nice to say. I also ceased praying in "happy-talk" language. About 20 years ago. My "Hey God, wassup, and are you still listening?" voice grew way more colorful and "more honest" the day after I graduated from Bible College. That was the day I realized just how much that Certificate in Biblical Studies was going to be worth in the dot.com world.

Now for the record I believe Old Testament Job probably didn't cuss when he wailed and bemoaned and described his rotten, abandoned-like circumstances. He probably offered casualty figures with imagery filled, literal elegance. Indeed, dare I say it, but I bet Job was the Queen of eloquence and efficient understatement.
But I never learned that gift in Old Testament Rhetoric 101. And for the record, I am not interested in learning it now. Whereas Job would describe how his entire family perished in glowing words, I feel God needs to hear words like "shitstorm" and "that's so fucked-up" with a healthy bit of "how could you's?" and "what in the hell are you letting happen down here's?" thrown in for added emphasis. When I haven't been praying like I mean it and saying things under my breath like "Dear Lord, why hath today been so sucky?", I've been following the Bill W creed of living.

The living one day at a time drill. I've also been trying really hard to be appreciative and stop and smell roses and admire beauty and try to take nothing for granted. I've been trying to act like everything is fine and I have so got this Christianity Shit together and look at me as I do this walking by faith and believing in God dance. Yet, sometimes I have to be brutally honest and say that sometimes God really seems like He's some sort of ultimate S & M dream date. I mean seriously, am I the only one who after reading the entire Old Testament didn't wonder if this God Dude didn't have serious passive aggressive issues?

Now do you see why I went quiet? See why I felt it best not to say anything for the last week? It's not like there's been any shortage of lightning up here in Pend Oreille County.

I mean its one thing to objectively report the events of our lives in some sort of detached news fashion and never really let the importance of these various happenings sink in. It's one thing to write word after word- capturing images, describing the details, and reporting the basics: The who, what, where, when, and why. But it's quite another to let those events touch you. Let them shake you up and stun you and realize that no amount of reasoning is going to hide how unsettled everything is. Prayer isn't an objective newscast. Its petitioning and begging and crying so hard you bleed.

No sir, that's definately not the objective stuff of news reporting and detached journalism. That's the stuff of hardcore subjective uncertainty. Its why people write country western music, become addicted to soap operas and why I bleed on screen and blog my way into another round of apologizing to God for my potty mouth and swearing I really didn't mean it.

While we are on the subject of prayer and God here's another thought.

Last week I saw a picture of ill fated Bullrider Stoney Covington in one of the local news accounts. Comparing that picture with the picture of what the bull did to him right in front of us, I felt unsettled. His smiling, cowboy hatted image got me thinking about fate and the future and God.

Ever noticed how in most photographs the subject is facing the camera when the moment is captured? Our lives stand frozen and suspended. The expression, the youth, the bad hairstyle and really horrendous fashion-they all get documented. But it's the eyes that get to me. Looking forward, full of promise, they gaze back, staring into the camera lens as if it's a looking glass.