Faith, Trust and. . .Pixie Dust?
Chapter 2
PG-13
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I don't own them ~ they're all Tim's. I just borrow them for stories ~ or they borrow my head! :0)
Song lyrics: "I'll Try" from Return to Neverland, by Jonatha Brooke ~~ I'm just borrowing them as well.
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Paul checked in with a volunteer and then led me into a small sitting room in the rectory, motioning to a chair.
"What's up, Jordan? Another body of a person claiming to be a saint?"
"No, no. Nothing like that. I. . . Paul, I've got some questions."
"About faith?"
"Faith. God. All that stuff."
"Alright. I'll do my best to answer them."
"Ok. I don't really even know where to start."
"The beginning, maybe?"
"Um. . . Well, I couldn't sleep tonight, so I was sitting in a window in my loft. It's so pretty, I had it open. And someone close by was watching some movie and a song came on that got me thinking about stuff."
"Uh huh. . ." He was encouraging me to go on.
"Well, it started me thinking about when Mom died and how everyone kept saying how strong I was. And then telling me to have faith. That Mom's death was God's will. That if I just believed things were going to be alright. And Father Ryan's homily at her service. I remember him saying that God took her to heaven to be with him. And I just. . . That's when I shut God out. How could I have faith in a God who would take my mother from me at the time when I was starting to need her most?"
"I can't say I blame you for that, Jordan. It's a horrible thing to say. I know it doesn't do any good for your mother's service now, but I make it a point never to say that in my funeral mass homilies."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"But tonight, I don't know. Something about the song got me to thinking about things. Faith-type things I guess. And then I went out for a run, and somehow I ended up at your door. I don't know why."
"When was the last time you were at a worship service Jordan?"
"I don't know. I guess it was sometime just after our Confirmation. Dad had to work on Sundays and I never really bothered. Even Confirmation was going through the motions. Everything after Mom's death was. Nothing seemed to matter to me at church after that. Nothing was relevant. Those stupid questions they asked us all the time ~ the seven deadly sins, that type of thing? I didn't see the point in it. If that was all religion was ~ stupid questions that didn't apply to my life and a God who would take my mother from me ~ I didn't want anything to do with it."
"I can't say I blame you, Jordan."
"You can't?"
"No. I completely understand, Jordan. Those questions you remember? They're questions about religion. Not faith."
"You mean there's a difference?"
"Yeah Jordan. Faith isn't about having the right answers. Faith is a feeling, a hunch. It's a hunch that there is something bigger connecting it all. Connecting us all together. It's what drove you here tonight. Even if you didn't know it. That feeling, that hunch, is God."
"So the 'Why did God let my mother be murdered?' is a religion question?"
"Not quite. It's a perfectly natural question. Jordan, we want to understand why things happen. It's ok to ask questions. We just don't always know the answers. But asking questions is how we grow, how our faith deepens."
"Oh." I was silent for a minute, thinking things through. "Paul?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something else?"
"Of course you can."
"I'll accept that we can't know why God let Mom die. But where was God when it happened? When she was shot?"
"I firmly believe that God was there, Jordan. God was there with your mother when she was shot. God was with her when she was drawing her last breath. God was with your father when he found her. God was with you when you went into that living room."
"Really?"
"That's what I believe. Jordan, God understands our pain. God became human. God loved people while on earth and lost people he loved. Remember the story about Lazarus?"
"Not really."
"The story itself isn't important to this conversation, but he wept at Lazarus' grave."
"Oh. Ok. . ."
"And Jordan? God's been with you ever since. Just because you shut God out of your life, God didn't give up on you."
"Really? Even though I said all those horrid things when I was so angry?"
"I remember that conversation. And yes, really. God's big enough to take your anger. There are plenty of examples of people being angry with God."
"And even when I quit praying? Quit believing? Said that science was my friend cause it doesn't let me down? God's been there all along?"
"I remember that conversation. And yes, God's been there all along. Remember what happened not too long after that conversation?"
"The prayer? Yeah. But that didn't feel like a prayer to me."
"What's a prayer supposed to feel like?"
"I don't know. I guess. . .I'd always done it before Mom died with a rosary."
"There are different ways to pray. Some people do better with rosaries, some with journals, some with silence, some just by opening their hearts and saying what they need to."
"Oh. But. . ."
"But what, Jordan?"
"But that time I was talking to God directly."
"Yeah. And?"
"And. . . Well, I remember in class we always talked about praying to Mary and asking her to intercede for us."
"Yes. Some people feel that they need someone to speak for them. But I don't necessarily think that's so. I think that we can talk with God whenever, wherever. Just like you did that day."
"Oh. Ok."
"Anything else?"
"Um. . .way too many to deal with now. Besides, we've been up all night. I think I need to find some lunch soon."
"You're right. But it's ok. You needed to talk. I'm just glad you came to talk with me. I know it's not easy stuff to deal with. Questions are normal. Feeling unsure and doubting is normal. It's a healthy part of the faith journey. And anytime you're ready to deal with some more questions, I'm here. I can promise you that, Jordan. I can't promise you answers, but I can promise you my presence and a listening heart and ear." He reached over and took my hand. We just sat there for a little while. Finally I looked at him.
"Paul?"
"Yeah?"
"Why don't you let me buy you some lunch. I know just the place to go."
"Alright."
. . .to be continued. . .
