I haven’t been able to attend church regularly for three years now and I miss it. I miss the music and the words of the scriptures, the security and comfort of a religious practice. But more than that I miss my faith in God. I had felt so close to God for so much of my life, even when I was fighting with God there was still the closeness. But now it is the emptiness that hurts…like the nightmare of coming home to find your parents have moved and the house is empty. Absolute existential aloneness.
So I try not to think so much and instead I try to “be.” I find that just paying attention to the world around me reminds me of the miracle of it all. It is a miracle that anything IS. And yet here we are. I don’t know why or by whose agency life exists, but I know it does. I know that I am going to sing Handel’s Messiah in December. I know that last weekend I heard the symphony play Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. I know that today I had a wonderful morning walking in the French Quarter and sharing a meal with my husband. I know that three birds flew into the courtyard and up into the blue sky. I know that I could feel the sun and breathe the cool, crisp air of the fall. These things I know. And these moments of wonder and beauty keep me going.