>Choly

>That’s my friend Dayna’s shorthand for melancholy, which is sort of how I’m feeling today. A little choly.

Here’s how I want to live my life: joyfully, hopefully, with delight and awe and innocence. Here’s how I do, all too often: worrying, stressed, bitter, impatient, untrusting. I want to be fearless and creative and hug people when I meet them. All too often I’m the opposite and I keep my distance.

I’m tired of working myself up over whether interest rates are going to screw us, over property tax rate hikes and school debt. I’m tired of wrestling with theology and models of the church and holier-than-thou Christians that I’m supposed to relate to, love even. I don’t want to be bitter or think life is hard, so hard, too hard.

I don’t want to be one of those Jesus people who lives life with a face like they just sucked on a lemon.

Somehow I think – and maybe this is faulty exegesis (what a tragedy after all those tuition dollars!) – that God wants us to be happy. Joyful. To enjoy this world he made. Yes, it is all f****ed up, but to be able to find the wonder in it, the traces of the divine – surely that’s being Christlike? Being able to find joy and be love despite? Sometimes I think God is much more like Alanis Morisette portrayed her in “Dogma” than any picture on a flannelgraph or stained glass window. I like to think of God as someone who would sit on a breezy day and blow bubbles, wish on dandelion puffs. That he would be like the person I want to be.

Otherwise, I think I’ve given up on him.

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