As She Carries Me

I have spent the last 10 years deconstructing a God as separate from our beings, a God who lives somewhere above the clouds and God as Father. But it seems that the first 20 years of conservative Christian formation is much stronger than I had anticipated. It takes quite a lot of awareness and intentional thinking to move from God the Father, to Mother, to Gaia, to Sophia. As soon as I hear or think the word God, the male version comes strongly into the forefront of my mind.

And sometimes it helps to think of God as male. I feel less bad about being angry with him, cursing his name and generally walking away from him. Thinking of God as Mother, on the other hand, is much more work. I find myself having to be patient with her, to listen deeply with her and to mourn with her. She always makes it so much harder. Men often walk away from and abandon women but how can I do the same?

This past month has been especially difficult, a difficulty I know is self-induced. I have wildly high expectations of myself, of the church and of God. I have been doing everything in my power to live up to them. But the church continues to let me down and, by association, so has God. I feel so distant from God. Like he doesn’t hear me, sympathize with me or mourn with me. Like he’s really leaning into his sadism as he watches me squirm and break down. Where is he in the madness of this world? Has he abandoned me as well as all the other women in his life?

Sometimes it feels this way and all I am left to do is sit in my tears, the trembling of my flesh, and feel, fight then fall asleep, hoping rest and the rumination of my dreams will bring healing. Tomorrow, after sleep, there might be hope. And maybe she will comfort me then. Maybe she will be what comes to the forefront of my brain this time. Maybe she will carry me as I rest effortlessly in her bosom as she walks me, limped body, toward salvation.