Mother love

I know, in my head, that we can't adopt another child. When I think about it rationally, I can see that we don't have the resources (time, energy, finances) to give to another child (although No Mother Earth makes a charming and persuasive argument for more than one child).

I only have 2 hours a day to spend with Baby E as it is - how would I possibly split that up for two children? Or more? It doesn't feel fair to us to give less than we do now.

But....

I want more children so much.

I feel like I have so much love to give, and there are children out there who need a mother. I think I've realized how good I am at mothering, and I want to do more of it. I want to be More Mother.

My awesome friend, Sally, told me she felt similarly when her children were about six months old. She inspired me with her vision of Mary as the universal mother, caring for all of us as her children. I feel as if I am a channel for this mothering energy, coming from the universe through me to my children.

The difficulty is that these feelings, this energy is pent up inside of me. I have no way to express them. Or do I? Why don't I simply direct all this mothering at Baby E?

Well, that's a good question. I have an answer, but not necessarily a good one.

I have a feeling that I don't want to focus all of that energy on Baby E, that it might be unhealthy for him. I believe that attention is an important part of parenting. Giving quality, undivided attention is the major way that I hope to show my love and approval for Baby E. Withholding attention - or shamuing - is how I hope to discourage behaviors that are unproductive. Too much attention, in my mind, can distort the parent-child relationship.

I don't believe that parents should be obsessed with their children. I know from my own experience how being a "little god" led to no boundaries and lots of difficulties in my life, difficulties that even my mother's overwhelming love could not balance.

On the other hand, I sometimes feel guilty if I'm doing things like watching TV or checking my email instead of playing with Baby E. In the scant two hours I have with him at night, I spend a large portion of that time cooking and eating dinner, plus doing whatever other chores need to happen in the evenings. I'm not sure how often I really meet the standard of "quality, undivided attention."

I think this guilt is exacerbated by the fact that I am an adoptive mother. I feel it is so important to give Baby E "optimal" attachment, to make up for the traumatic loss of his birthmother he suffered at birth. And I feel anxious about whether he is really bonded to me. Does he really think I'm someone special? A fear that I can only imagine will grow as he does, as he explores the world and finds so many other things more exciting than Mommy.

(If I compare these thoughts to my thoughts on relationships, they seem silly. I never say to myself "Hey, you're loving Papa D too much.")

There should be a way out of this dilemma. I should let the Goddess be my guide. She showers endless love on her children, and it doesn't harm us, because she also lets us grow up into our own, wonderful, unique independent beings.

If these feelings come from the Goddess, who am I to block them? Maybe She wants me to flood Baby E with all the love I have. Maybe there's some reason that I don't know, something in the future that he needs to be prepared for.

A ray of hope?

I have a job interview scheduled for Thursday morning. Not with any of the opportunities I've already written about, but with a new organization. It's a job I found and applied to immediately on Thursday morning. Within three hours, I had a call from the HR department asking for an interview this week.

So it's easily meeting my standard for synchronicity. I mean, that's a mind-boggling pace for an academic institution. But I'm not really that excited. If anything, my emotions are ranging from dull to dread.

At first, I was excited about the prospect of an interview, any interview and another job, any job. But as I've thought through this particular job and discussed it with Papa D, it seems like it won't be a good move.

It has good benefits (including incredible vacation/holiday schedule), but a serious drop in salary. It is either a similar commute time or longer (will test this on Thursday). Those tradeoffs could be manageable, if the job and work environment would be an improvement. But those are two big IFs.

I have no idea what kind of job will make me happier. This is a writing job, and I have enjoyed writing over the last six months. Having a writing job on the resume could help me in the future. It looks like the work might be fairly diverse from day to day, which is very important to me.

The big question is about the work environment. I've heard some scuttlebutt that the VP is difficult to work with, but how much would that affect me?

So I'm going to the interview, trying to learn a little more, see how I feel. Maybe this is the chance I've been waiting for. But maybe not.

Diverse city

One of the most exciting parts of vising a big city and attending a cultural festival was the abundance of diversity. We saw African-American families and Indian families. Performers from throughout Central and South America displayed every possible skin color. On the subway, there were Asian students. But that's one of the main reasons to visit a city, to get out of our predominantly white area.

Even more surprising, though, were the number of transracial adoptive families we saw. Starting on the subway on the way there, where a family of two women (friends, I think) with four children befriended us. The children were a biracial boy of about 10 or 11, and three younger blonde girls. He immediately started engaging Baby E, trying to play with him. He was a beautiful boy, with skin the same color as Baby E's, and tiny little curls close shorn under his baseball cap. He asked Papa D: "Are you his dad?" "Yes," we said. "Are you his mom?" he asked me. "Yes," we said. I added, "We adopted him." That opened the door. He asked how long we had him, and I said since birth. He explained, "My mom and dad adopted me at birth." When Baby E was holding onto his finger, I said, "You're almost exactly the same color." He answered, "When it's hot, I get black. When it's cold, I get white." An interesting take on climate and racial identity.

At the festival, everywhere we turned there were adoptive parents with their children of other races. It was so exciting and empowering. I know that Baby E wasn't getting much out of it, but someday he will.

What he was getting was lots of attention from people of color. From the toddler girl who was drawn to him on the dance floor ("baby" she kept saying) to the mother on the subway who played peek-a-boo with him, he charmed them all. I had to remind myself that he doesn't know he has a color yet, but then I realized that the other people do, especially the adults. They were responding to him and interacting with him.

I don't know whether that will continue as he grows older, but it is a very compelling reason to continue to visit the city as often as we can.

Everyday day

Yesterday was a perfect example of why it's so hard for me to get to church. On Saturday, we decided to go to a cultural festival, exactly the kind of thing it's important for a multicultural family like ours to attend. It was fun, located in a big city, and celebrated both of Baby E's backgrounds.

But that meant that when Sunday morning dawned bright and early, I had a long list of things to get done before the end of the day. All that I usually have the whole weekend to complete - and no time to do during the week.

I had the best intentions - I was up, showered, dressed for church - but it came time for church, and I couldn't see any way to fit it all into a single day. So it was a mundane day. Without spiritual inspiration. But it was lovely and rejuvenating nonetheless. There is joy in reading the same book to your child over and over again, and there is peace in a clean sink.

Working ideas

The issue that I sort of glossed over yesterday is whether I should even be seeking fulfillment in my career. This is a question I have wrestled with long and hard.

There are several lenses through which to look at this:

The first is generational.

Women of the baby boom fought for the right to work. They saw it as a way to fulfill themselves, and they were able to pursue careers that were meaningful to them. I was thinking recently of my mother-in-law, who has worked for 40 years as a social worker. Even though she's of an age to retire, she doesn't because she still gets so much out of it. Now, I was recently thinking about going to social work school, and I researched social work salaries. With a master's degree, you still only earn $30,000 or so a year! And that's in today's dollars. My mother-in-law had the luxury to work at a career that she loved, because her salary wasn't needed at home.

For us Generation X women, we always knew we would work. And we have a lot less freedom because our salaries are now necessary. I think this is the crux of the generational divide, which erupts over the opt-out choices of many women. The feminists think they fought our freedom, but to us it feels like a burden they dumped on us. I and my friends strive to think of work "like a man" - it's something you have to do, so buck up and be proud of providing for your family.

If you have to work, another factor in your view of it is socioeconomic class.

My mother, who was raised middle-class, with a father in the Navy and an artist-teacher mother, believed that a career should be primarily an intellectual pursuit. She got into but didn't finish an experimental college. After doing the 60s and having children, she eventually settled into a career as a legal secretary. She admired intelligence immensely. Growing up, she wished for me to become a immunologist or a linguist. She was instrumental in my attending - and graduating from - an East Coast liberal arts college and unstintingly supportive of my professional career.

My father's family was working class, his parents a Merchant Marine and a housekeeper. After an miserable stint in the Marines, he spent several years "dropping out" then had children. He eventually attended culinary school, tried working in hotel kitchens, but quickly moved over to the management side. He was skeptical of my attending a fancy college and thought I should go to "the school of hard knocks." He seems actively opposed to the idea that work should be meaningful. You do it, you get a paycheck, and you spend your free time avoiding thinking about work.

For the first seven years of my career, I was enjoying myself so much, learning so much and advancing so quickly under the tutelage of two amazing women mentors, that I didn't have time to worry about these kind of issues. I was happy to be earning a decent, regular paycheck (when so many of my generation were "slackers").

Then I started looking around for other opportunities, still believing that my career would continue to be as fulfilling. But then things went downhill. The organizations I worked at were dysfunctional, and the work was boring. I've been flailing around ever since.

When we were in The Big City, I think life in general was so hard that it overshadowed my career issues. So I was more focused on pulling my life together. We moved, to a beautiful, large dream house with a backyard I could garden in. We learned we love small-town life. Eventually, we had a precious son.

Once I felt more settled and happy with life, the suck of my career loomed large. It doesn't help that I had a traumatic layoff, followed by what I believe is the most toxic office environment I've ever worked in.

I've tried to "man up" and accept that fulfillment doesn't have to come from my career. That I can be happy in the rest of my life and accept a ho-hum job (not that this job is ho-hum, this job SUCKS and it's only the economy keeping me in it). Basically, I'm viewing my work like a working-class man, like my dad. Who really is NOT the role model I would choose for my career.

In the last few weeks - since attending church, trying to reconnect with the Goddess, starting this blog, contemplating my navel as it were, I've really been feeling a shift. I'm back to believing that - even if I don't succeed - I have to at least TRY to find a satisfying, meaningful career path.

Working Women of Yesteryear

Running on empty

As I'm waiting to hear from this new job possibility (yes, still waiting), I am thinking a lot about how to know if it's the right move to make. How can I know what the company is really like? Will the telecommuting arrangement really be an improvement? Most importantly, I want to feel like I am going the right direction in my life, on the path the God/dess wants for me.

One way I've always believed you can know you are on the right path is synchronicity. When all the factors align, you feel like everything is easy and right. That's how I know I'm heading in the right direction.

One way that I am really questioning is the concept of fulfillment. Is the feeling of fulfillment the same as fulfilling one's purpose? The former seems to me to be self-focused, while the latter is soul-centered? But doesn't the God/dess want me to be happy? How else can I know that I am doing her will than a feeling of contentment?

I certainly don't feel fulfilled by my work (is it the career or the job, that's the million dollar question), and the roots of this discontent started a decade ago. I've had dozens of theories over the years of what the problem is (poor management, lack of advancement possibilities, cause I'm not interested in, and now dysfunctional workplace), but as I've attempted to rectify each job's shortcomings, I feel like I am digging myself deeper into this mess.

Because becoming a mother happened so recently, I know that Baby E fulfills me. My heart is overflowing with love for him and happiness that he is in my life. However, when he turned six-month-old, I started feeling the yearning again...for another child, many children. Papa D thinks I'm crazy, but I want to have 8 children, all different ages and races. I really want to adopt a teenage daughter from the U.S. foster care system...and a sibling set from Haiti. These days I'm particularly obsessed with children with special needs, such as cleft lip/palate, limb differences, and ambiguous genitalia, from China and India. So I am fulfilled by Baby E, but not totally. Is there such a thing as partial fulfillment? Can part of your heart be totally fulfilled and part be empty?

My relationship with Papa D has completely fulfilled me. He filled a hole in my heart that I walked with for most of my life. I could finally quit searching and start living. All of a sudden I had more energy for other parts of life. When we were married, I imagined that together we were a stronger force for good. We could channel our energy to our communities, instead of ourselves. I'm not sure how much of that vision has come true (we're still pretty self-centered), but I do know that 10 years later, I have no interest in any other man (or woman for that matter).

In marriage and motherhood, I must say that fulfillment seems to be an indication of rightness, of blessing by the God/dess. So it seems I need to continue to seek fulfillment in my work.

What's interesting to me about this is the dichotomy between emptiness and fullness. Six years ago, I took the magical name Calix, the latin word for chalice, to represent my openness to the Goddess's blessings. I was hoping to become a mother, and the chalice symbolized my womb (and heart) ready to be filled. I pictured a goblet spilling over with a clear water to imagine the love and energy that would shower upon me. At that time, my life felt cluttered and busy, and emptiness was a good thing. I wanted to clear a space - in my life, in my heart - for the Goddess to fill with a child. Now, I'm experiencing the other side of this emptiness, the longing for something more.

Since I no longer want to be empty, I think it may be time to change my magical name. I'd like something that represents my feeling of being blessed. There's always Grace, but I recoil from the trendiness. Apparently Winifred means holy, blessed reconciliation and joy and peace. Ardith is traditionally given to a baby as a blessing. Neither is really doing it for me.

I really like Beata, and it keeps in the Roman tradition of my Matron Goddess, Juno.
I'm drawn to Baraka (like the President) or Beracha, but I don't have any particular connection with Islam, and my Jewish connections aren't strong enough to warrant taking a Hebrew name. Though, perhaps, if I am being drawn towards Christianity, a Hebrew name would be appropriate.

As I contemplated this, it eventually dawned on me that my real name actually means something similar to blessed. In Sanskrit, it means "all auspicious." I understand that this means something more like "good fortune surrounds me" or "luck follows me" than that good things happen to me. But perhaps I should consider the radical thought of integrating my magical and mundane names...whoa!

The Chalice Well and Gardens at Glastonbury, England

The cover of the Chalice Well, showing the vesica piscis, a sacred geometrical symbol representing the union of spirit and matter

June 23

The orange daylilies are blooming in our yard. Evenings are brightened by lightning bugs. The days are long, and the air is heavy with humidity.

Each year, these signs of midsummer remind me of the day I married Papa D. It was magical, blessed by the Goddess. It rained on our heads during the garden ceremony (a sign of luck), but we didn't even feel it.

This year, I'm feeling particularly grateful that my mother was there that day. She had already had cancer for 16 years, and it wasn't clear that she would be up for the travel. I remember that the most emotional moment came when I saw her and realized that she had really lived until my wedding day.

Today, it is eight years of marriage, and I would happily do it all over again.

Little flower

Baby E did well for the first half-hour of the funeral service, but then he just couldn't keep quiet, so I headed out to the lobby and front of the church. I let him walk around, explore, be a toddler. What I discovered amidst the holy water and pamphlets were two lovely, handmade quilted standards. I hadn't noticed them amidst the crush of people entering the church. One portrayed St. Francis Xavier (appropriately enough) and the other was emblazoned with the message: "Receive Christ as a Little Child."

That seemed incredible, considering my thoughts of the last week. I read it as meaning that Christ is a little child, but some Googling has led me to realize that it usually means I should be like a little child.

You can also see that it represents a nun with a handful of roses and says "Saint Therese." Being ignorant of Christian saints, I had to look this up.

St. Therese of Lisieux lived in 19th century France, where she became a Carmelite nun at the age of 14. Before dying at 24, she wrote an autobiography that lays out her spiritual ideas, her "little way." This is also called spiritual childhood, a "spirit of childhood in all our dealings with God," according to Pope Pius XI.

John F. Russell, O.Carm., S.T.D. writes that "Relationship to the child Jesus emphasizes the humanity of Christ and suggests a sense of dependence, poverty, trust, and wonder. The child Jesus theme is found in the sermons of St. Bernard of Clairvaux and in writings of the Franciscan tradition."

Called the Little Flower, St. Therese used nature as a metaphor for the relationship with the Divine. She promised that, after her death, "I will let fall a shower of roses," and since then, many have seen her blessings in the form of roses. She wrote of flowers and nature:

"I still feel the profound and poetic impressions which were born in my soul at the sight of fields enameled with corn-flowers and all types of wild flowers. Already I was in love with the wide-open spaces. Space and the gigantic fir trees, the branches sweeping down to the ground, left in my heart an impression similar to the one I experience still today at the sight of nature."

"Jesus deigned to teach me this mystery. He set before me the book of nature; I understood how all the flowers He has created are beautiful, how the splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the Lily do not take away the perfume of the little violet or the delightful simplicity of the daisy. I understood that if all flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose her springtime beauty, and the fields would no longer be decked out with little wild flowers. And so it is in the world of souls, Jesus' garden. He willed to create great souls comparable to lilies and roses, but He has created smaller ones and these must be content to be daisies or violets destined to give joy to God's glances when He looks down at His feet. Perfection consists in doing His will, in being what He wills us to be."

"Consider the oaks of our countryside, how crooked they are; they thrust their branches to right and left, nothing checks them so they never reach a great height. On the other hand, consider the oaks of the forest, which are hemmed in on all sides, they see light only up above, so their trunk is free of all those shapeless branches which rob it of the sap needed to lift it aloft. It sees only heaven, so all its strength is turned in that direction, and soon it attains a prodigious height. In the religious life the soul like the young oak is hemmed in on all sides by its rule. All its movements are hampered, interfered with by the other trees.... But it has light when it looks toward heaven, there alone it can rest its gaze, never upon anything below, it need not be afraid of rising too high."

"And just as in nature all the seasons are arranged in such a way as to make the humblest daisy bloom on a set day, in the same way, everything works out for the good of each soul."

As a pagan and nature-lover (the same thing?), I find those writing to be beautiful and inspiring. But most meaningful to me is her focus on love. "What matters in life," St. Therese wrote, "is not great deeds, but great love."

That's an idea I can definitely appreciate. I was never and still am not a career-first woman. From childhood on, I was much more concerned with the relationships in my life, and I have long said that I wanted my legacy to be my family, not some external achievements.

Isn't it interesting how our paths present us with the messages that we need to hear? Thank you, Baby E, for taking me into the lobby of the church. Your restlessness is a blessing to me.

Saying goodbye

On Saturday, we attended a funeral service for a friend of ours. She was 51-years-old and died suddenly last Wednesday. She just collapsed, and the autopsy didn't find any discernible cause. She had just moved back into a new house after a year away. On Thursday, we helped her family by transferring the contents of her moving van into a storage facility. How depressing ... to see someone's life all packed up like that.

The service was held at the St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church, which I've been interested in checking out. When I walk by on my way to St. Paul's, the Catholic church seems packed with people. I like the idea of a dynamic congregation like that. Holding me back are two factors: first, one of the main reasons I would want to go is because the congregation has a large Latino component, but they attend a separate service in Spanish. Second, they congregation is raising money to leave their beautiful, old church a half-block from my house to move to a new building outside of town.

It was pouring rain on the walk to the funeral, very apropos. And the church was packed, I don't think I've ever attended such a large funeral. It's reflective of how warm and charismatic a woman she was. The service was neither inspiring nor comforting, it seemed as if the priest didn't really know or understand her. The most touching part was when her 14-year-old daughter read a poem about what her mother meant to her. Of course, I had been thinking of losing my mom the whole week, but this moment just brought back all the grief. And put the point on all the empathy I have for these young daughters who have to grow up motherless.

At the end of the service, there was finally something that people could relate to. The universally recognized spiritual, Amazing Grace:

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me.
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun.

Some people in our community - including two close friends - are taking this much harder than I am. I don't know whether they knew her better or haven't experienced death as closely as I have. I simply feel like death is a part of life, and it happens, and there is no way to predict or make sense out of it. But it's made me wonder if I'm in a bit of a low-level depression, perhaps I should be feeling more.

Since the service, I have been remembering our friend. She was so vivacious. Her smile keeps coming back to me. In the last year, especially, she had seemed to blossom. A new haircut and new clothes and jewelry made her seem happier. I also remember how she welcomed us to the community when we moved here. I think she made sure we met everyone and attended the key events. She was just so excited about life.

Farewell, my friend.

Little gods

In the last few years, one of the most fascinating and controversial ideas in neuropsychology has been the concept that it is a part of the human brain that creates the experience of God. At least one crackpot on the internet has taken this a step further and proposed that this part of the brain is shaped by early life experiences, i.e. parenting.

The feeling of being intensely mothered - as I experienced with the Goddess - could easily reflect my early life experiences. My mother devoted herself to me. She didn't work, so I was with her all the time. She breastfed me until I was two-and-a-half (darn sister coming along!). Of course, in time, I grew up and away from her, but she continued to love me more than anyone else loved me until the day she died.

As a mother, I've come to understand that devotion from the other side. I love every single hair on Baby E's head, and I can easily imagine him being my favorite person as he grows. Now, I can also see how this experience of the Divine Child could be a reflection of my infancy.

My mother was a very spiritual person. She first explored Quakerism in high school, then dedicated herself to Krishna at age 21. But she said that her interest in religion declined when she had me. I became her center. This was encouraged by the Indian culture around her, which she told me treated children under age six as little gods. Obviously, this was reinforced by the stories of Krishna as a child, doted on by his mother.

So here I am, 38 years later, awed by the universal life force that I see channeling through my child. It's as if I'm reliving my mother's experience...or my experience.

Whether it is neurons or harmonic fields or karma, I'm kind of astonished by the connections between my God Experiences and my mother.

Lots of excitement

Yesterday, out of the blue, a possible job opportunity came up. It's not a sure thing, but I have a good feeling about it. It's in my current career, but at a different company. The company is actually located in The City (about 3 hours away), so I'm proposing to work at home four days a week. Telecommuting could be a great option for me - lack of commute means more time for Baby E and life, but it has the stability of a J-O-B.

The opening actually came to me through a woman I helped with her resume a few years back. So chalk one up for networking. She's able to give me the behind-the-scenes scoop, and it sounds good. They offer generous vacation and holiday schedules, along with summer Fridays.

There are a couple of "signs" that give me a good vibe about it. First, the woman has the same unusual spelling of her name as my first boss and mentor. Second, the name of the company happened to come up in my book yesterday before I heard from her. Lastly, I just have that excited feeling in my stomach that makes me feel like it's a good move. Of course, I haven't met the bosses or negotiated anything, but I like to follow my gut (that's where the Goddess lives, right?). As a cherry on top, Papa D was enthusiastic and supportive, which makes me think the scheme isn't as hare-brained as my usual ideas.

This morning, I had coffee with someone who works in the different career that I am considering. This new career would require me to go back to school for a master's degree, followed by a one-year internship. I'm excited both about the prospect of school and about the career afterward. It would involve working with kids and offer the schedule of a school teacher. My breakfast did nothing to deter my interest. The man, who has worked in the field for 20 years, was very encouraging, making his job seem rewarding and manageable.

So, not to get ahead of myself but I realize I may have a little dilemma about whether I still want to pursue this new career if I have a new job, how the telecommuting might work with being in school, and a lot of other questions. It comes down to needing to decide which path is right - the one I've been on or a new one.

To top it all off, I've also applied for a part-time job with a local nonprofit organization. The idea would be that the job would serve as a "foundation" client for my freelance business. Again, the benefits of working from home, with more flexibility if I am my own boss. I'm concerned that they are looking for someone with less experience and less salary, but it seemed worth the effort to apply.

Well, there's no reason to borrow worry from the future, so I'll just keep meditating, keep listening to the little voice inside, and make a decision when the time comes.

Panther

At one point, the black panther was my spirit animal (may still be), so I think it's auspicious that I found this photo of a panther mother and her kitten today, when my thoughts have been on motherhood. What I think is fascinating is the combination of an animal we think of as dangerous being maternal to the impossibly cute baby. It brings a new meaning to a "Mama Tiger moment" - you know, when a mother aggressively defends her child.

Epiphany

In searching for references to child-Gods, I found this opening prayer to an Epiphany Service by Paul Bagshaw:

Infant God, Christ-child, Light of all creation,
be with us now.

Cradle us in your small fingers;
grant us a smile and we shall be blessed;
accept, we ask, the gifts we bring
and do not count our frailties against us,
infant King.

Infant Jesus, Ancient of Days new-born,
our beginning and our end,
God with us,
be with us now.

Mother and child

I've been ruminating all weekend, and I'm really excited about this new idea (thanks, Alyss, for the encouraging inquiry!). After writing about finding the Divine in Baby E, I realized that perhaps the experience of the Divine hasn't left me, but has changed to a new form.

I used to experience the Goddess as a Great Mother, an enveloping, nurturing presence. She was the perfect parent, ever-present and ever-accepting, with none of the human foibles of my earthly mother.

Now the Divine has entered my life as a child, to whom I am mother. I have changed positions, from being the child to being the mother. It is a totally different energy. There is still great love flowing to me, but there is greater responsibility on my part.

But what does it mean for God to be a child? Is there such a thing as a child God? What does it ask of me?

My first thought was of Jesus Christ. His birth is a well-known story, and images of him as a child are common.


Perhaps this is why I have been drawn to Christian church, to connect with the story of a mother and child.

My next thoughts were of Krishna. Because I was taught about Krishna when I was a child, I think of him mainly as a the mischievous child stealing butter.


Growing up, he was presented as a God we could relate to. Now, I am finding so much more in the story. He was raised by adoptive parents, cowherd Nanda and his wife Yashoda. She is a human mother of a Divine being, who is a different color than she is.


Yet they love each other profoundly. Statues of Krishna are places on special cushions that represent his mother Yashoda’s lap, with bolsters on each side as her hands. "The Lord is said to be seated in the lap of His beloved Yashodama, forever secure that no one will dare scold Him while He is in her lap. No matter how naughty He has been during the day, no matter what the other gopis say, Yashodama will never believe anything ill of her beloved son. She will tell the complainants to look at their own shortcomings, but will never say anything to upset her darling child. His foster mother Yashoda’s love for Him was so dear to Him that the Lord says, 'No matter what the world says, I will always call myself as your son! I will call myself the son of Nanda and Yashoda.'"

I have found a few other examples of child-Gods: the infant Dionysus (famously - and interstingly juxtaposed with typical Madonna images - shown being held by his father, Hermes), the infantile Eros (sometimes shown held by his mother Aphrodite), and Horus, son of Isis and Osiris.

I was intrigued by ideas I found on a website on Indian art:

"According to David Kinsley: 'For the divine to become embodied as a child is eminently suitable, for they behave in similar ways. Each belongs to a joyous realm of energetic and erratic activity that is pointless but not insignificant; aimless, but imaginative and rich, and therefore creative. In play, the mind can go wild; the imagination is set free to conjure and conquer. With the world of necessity left behind, the imagination takes over, eagerly populating a world that knows no limit whatsoever. So it is with the play of children, and so it is with the activity of the gods.'

"In the Harivansha Purana, Krishna's play is said to be "like the fire in the cremation ground," leaping and flickering, erratic and vigorous. The brash and indomitable spirit of the young Krishna makes the world around him sparkle with aliveness. His youthful play lights up the world like a blazing fire illuminates the darkness. The playful actions of Krishna burst forth to tumble and romp like the wind in the trees, unpredictable and free. We have here a description of the other realm where things are as they are meant to be, where life goes on joyously and unhampered, where no thought is given, or need be given, to the future, where life is lived to the fullest every moment. Krishna's playful realm is a description of the heavenly world of gods which is ever fresh, instinctive, and intuitional.

"The theophany of the child god also reveals that as an infant and a child, Krishna is approachable, and can be doted upon and coddled. He can be approached with the intimacy with which a parent approaches a child. Such a god invites man to dispense with cumbersome formality and come to him openly, delighting in him intimately. The adorable, beautiful babe, so beloved all over, does not demand servitude and pomp. His simplicity, charm, and infant spontaneity, invite an affectionate and tender response."

So, one lesson from Mary and Yashoda's stories might be that the role of a God-child is to inspire a maternal love, so strong as to take me beyond myself. That the lesson I need to learn is to release my ego and put myself in service of another's life.

Another approach is more Jungian, like this sermon I found by the Rev. Dr. Daniel Ó Connell preached for the congregation at Eliot Unitarian Chapel in Kirkwood, MO on December 8, 2002. Jung believed this archetype, of the child, "represents the strongest, [inevitable] urge in every being, namely the urge [for a being] to realize itself."

"To lead a more authentic life, we must look within, we must seek, find, and encourage our Divine Child. ...The Divine Child is the archetype of the regenerative force that leads us toward wholeness. 'Becoming as a little child' as expressed in the Gospels. It is a symbol of the true self, of the totality of our being, as opposed to the limited and limiting ego."

Update

No church report this week, because we went to the Church of Brunch instead. You know, where all the yuppie agnostics go, with their New York Times, omelettes, and bagels. We met a college friend of Papa D, her husband and 15-month-old daughter. Great conversation and great food, in a much-hipper-than-us environment. I had excellent strawberry pancakes and a perfectly executed macchiatto. It was a lovely outing - very cosmopolitan for us these days.

Things continue along with the bedtime program - the Bedtime Ritual is getting more normal, working its magic on Baby E's little system. He seems more and more to be falling asleep quickly and at similar times. Still there are hiccups occasionally, but the overall pattern is improving. The night have mostly been going better as well.

I realized this morning, as I started my new audiobook (the only way I survive the two hours of commuting a day), that a theme might be emerging in my reading habits. About six months ago, I read Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert. I got the take-home message - you are most likely wrong about predicting what will make you happy - but I didn't seem to absorb how to counteract that problem. Then a few months ago, I really enjoyed The Architecture of Happiness by Alain de Botton, one of my all-time favorite authors returning with somethign I liked almost as much as The Romantic Movement. Now, I've picked up The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner. Hmmm...what can this all mean?

Where?

In the comments to the last post, my totally cool sister Alyss asked, "Where do you already feel closest to the divine?"

I want to start by explaining that I haven't lost my faith. I still believe as strongly as ever in the divine. If anything, my faith is stronger now, because I have less direct experience to go by.

Can I continue with the metaphor of the sun? When the Goddess became an active part of my life at 26 years old, it was like the cloud cover cleared, and I finally felt the sun. I easily could feel her warmth and light, it was all around me all the time. Sometime around four years ago, the clouds moved back. I still know the sun is there, intellectually, and I can see the evidence of Her existence in the world (there is light to see by, the plants are growing). But I don't have that visceral experience of Her presence.

What happened four years ago? Well, I stopped actively practicing. We moved to a Small Town from The Big City, and I couldn't find any other pagans. For the first few months, we tried attending the Unitarian Universalist church, but gave that up for both social and liturgical reasons. At first I didn't miss practicing, I still felt confident in Her presence in my life, even if I didn't feel Her directly. I knew that pursuing motherhood was Her choice for me, and I followed that path. It was only deep into that decision, once the road became rocky, that I realized I couldn't seem to find her within me any more. A few times, I tried to make more of an effort, but I was busy and couldn't find the time. And there was little reward.

During the adoption process, we felt surrounded by church-y types always spouting about God's plans, and it felt important to distance myself from them. While I knew the Goddess wanted us to be parents, I didn't believe that she had one, specific child planned for us. I closed my heart to all the talk about God - I just couldn't face the idea of a God who plans for women to make heart-wrenching choices and for children to lose their birthfamilies.

It's interesting that I felt the Goddess so strongly when I lived in cities, but don't now that I live in the country, surrounded by nature. I feel as if she guided me here, where she wanted me to be, then figured she could leave me to figure out the rest on my own.

When I lived in cities, I found the Goddess in nature - the herbs growing wild out of the sidewalk, the huge trees in the park, the moon rising full between the buildings. Now, Her works are everywhere - from our little patch of backyard to the rolling green hills that surround our town. I can actually see the sky here and am much closer to the cycles of the moon and the sun. For half the year, we eat fresh vegetables and fruits, bought from farmers that we know and love. But none of these things seem to be filled with magic, rather they seem quotidian, common.

I don't have much time to enjoy the hobbies - gardening, cooking, knitting - that once connected me with her. (Just one more way that this job is killing my soul.)

If there is one place now that I feel most alive, it is with Baby E. From the miracle of his presence in our lives to the joy of watching him grow and develop, he is an angel, sent from heaven. He is a daily marvel.

I know that motherhood was the next step on my spiritual path, but now that I'm here, it just doesn't feel like what I expected. It's no grand ephiphany, it's a day-to-day
church
grind [I totally didn't mean to put the word church there, an interesting typo, don't you think?] of mundane details, punctuated by bursts of overwhelming love. It is also a profound call to gratitude - can you imagine how incredible the woman is who gave this miracle to us?

However, despite the boogers and the board books, motherhood has changed me. I think differently now about my career, my community, my home, my marriage, and my self. These shifts feel so tectonic that I haven't really been able to articulate them.

I know, though, that my current job situation isn't sustainable. It simply doesn't work to be away from home 10 hours a day, to only see my baby for 2 hours before he goes to sleep.

And, because my son has African heritage, I also knew I needed to reach out to the black community in our town - and what better way to do that than attend a church? So in this way too, it is Baby E. who has propelled me back to God.

More thoughts on prayer

I've been exploring the world of pagan blogs to get inspiration, and I came across this discussion of prayer:

Radical Goddess Thealogy: Praying TO GODDESS?

I certainly don't see the need to compare my relationship with a deity to someone else's relationship with Jesus, but I think the conversation makes some interesting points.

I wish that I felt the same as the last commenter. I mean, I know that the Goddess is always with me, but why don't I feel her any more?

A prayer

For some reason, I remembered my favorite prayer today, the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi:

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

I used to have this as a little prayer card. I think I bought it at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. I chose St. Francis because I knew my mother loved him. She was the kindest, most compassionate person and prized kindness above all - so it's no surprise that Francis would appeal to her.

I probably meant to give the card to my mother, but never did. It became very important to me after September 11th. I recited this prayer every day and it helped me feel as if I were somehow responding to the terrible violence.

Of course, I can't forget that I'm from his city, San Francisco, California.

Language barrier

One of the greatest challenges for me in attending St. Paul's is overcoming the language they use to talk about religion and the Divine. It's not just the use of God and Jesus Christ, but they talk of Satan and evil too.

I wasn't raised Christian, so I don't have an easy familiarity with all the Christian linguistic mannerisms. For the last 13 years, I've been a practicing Witch, so I'm used to a whole different theological language.

I think I must be sitting in the service furrowing my brow the whole time as I try to translate the prayers, hymns, and sermons into language that makes sense to me. Then I struggle again with language as I write this journal.

If I use "God," it sometimes feels false. I fear it gives people an impression of me as a traditionally religious person, as if I'm in the closet.

In real life, I have tried to stop using "God," and I use "Google" instead. So you'll hear me say "Thank Google for that!" or "Where on Google Earth did that come from?"

I'd feel more comfortable if my readers knew that, when I use "God," I use it as a "nickname" for the Goddess, the Great Mother, creator/animator/destructor of all things, an infinite being with uncountable manifestations across history and continents.

"God" is a shortcut for me. You'll never hear me use the word "Lord" unless it's in reference to something like "The Lord's Prayer." Even the word "pray" is fraught for me - doesn't it conjure an image of a child kneeling by her bed with her hands clasped together?

I should remind myself of other images of prayer - the upraised hands of the Hindu kirtan or the prostrate posture of the Muslim. These words can call up many meanings, just as there are many faces of the Goddess and God.

Good things

The phrase "all good things come from God" was rattling around my head the other day. I think it's something they say at St. Paul's. I translated it, as I do with almost everything at St. Paul's, into my words: "all good things come from the Goddess." Well, of course they do. That seems obvious. Everything comes from the Goddess. In Wicca however, we believe that she particularly wants us to enjoy the good things in life.

I immediately thought of a phrase from the Charge of the Goddess: "all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals." This piece is widely used as a sort of "textual" basis for pagan theology. Here is a version from Reclaiming, written by Doreen Valiente and adapted by Starhawk:

Listen to the words of the Great Mother, Who of old was called Artemis, Astarte, Dione, Melusine, Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Diana, Arionrhod, Brigid, and by many other names:

Whenever you have need of anything, once a month, and better it be when the moon is full, you shall assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit of Me Who is Queen of all the Wise.

You shall be free from slavery, and as a sign that you be free you shall be naked in your rites.

Sing, feast, dance, make music and love, all in My Presence, for Mine is the ecstasy of the spirit and Mine also is joy on earth.

For My law is love is unto all beings. Mine is the secret that opens the door of youth, and Mine is the cup of wine of life that is the cauldron of Cerridwen, that is the holy grail of immortality.

I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal, and beyond death I give peace and freedom and reunion with those that have gone before.

Nor do I demand aught of sacrifice, for behold, I am the Mother of all things and My love is poured out upon the earth.

Hear the words of the Star Goddess, the dust of Whose feet are the hosts of Heaven, whose body encircles the universe:

I Who am the beauty of the green earth and the white moon among the stars and the mysteries of the waters,

I call upon your soul to arise and come unto me.

For I am the soul of nature that gives life to the universe.

From Me all things proceed and unto Me they must return.

Let My worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold, all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals.

Let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you.

And you who seek to know Me, know that the seeking and yearning will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without.

For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am That which is attained at the end of desire.

As I mulled this over, I realized that the opposite is true too...of course. If all things are from the Goddess, then this difficult experience is from her too. At which point, I had to question "Why?"

Why would God want me to have this experience? What am I meant to learn from it?

My first thought, which became so consuming I had a hard time thinking of others, was that I was meant to realize that this is no longer the career for me. Perhaps the Universe put me into a job that I would hate so much that I would finally leave professional communications. And, by the way, there's no question that I was meant to take this job. I had found this firm just before taking my previous job, thought about them repeatedly over the year and half, and when I was suddenly laid off, they were my very first thought. I sent them a letter, just over the transom, and within 6 weeks was starting here with a $10,000 pay raise. I would say it was all a terrible mistake, but there are no mistakes.

The thing is that this line of thinking is particularly convenient, as a way to justify the career change I want to make, so I distrust it a little bit. I really wracked my brains trying to think of other messages I could be receiving from this situation:

- When I first started this job, it was absolutely clear that the move back to consulting was a good one. I really enjoy the variety and novelty of working with different clients. I love being able to do three or four different kinds of projects in a day. Maybe that was the key lesson, and all the rest of this is "gravy" telling me to move on.

- What would I move on to? Another crazy agency? For a while, it felt very clear that I need to work for myself. I could work from home, set my own hours, work on projects that I choose, and generally avoid the fallout of others' dysfunction. I had even convinced myself that the Great Recession was the perfect time to start a business - people aren't hiring staff or full-scale agencies, but still need their communications work done on the cheap. For now, there's just no way to make this a reality. I'd need at least one, if not two, steady, substantial clients - and there are none on the horizons. I've also been cluing in to the downsides of being your own boss: the constant pressure to be working and hustling new clients.

- Maybe I'm meant to go back to the non-profit route, becoming an Executive Director of an organization whose cause I believe in. Maybe. But they're not lining up at the door for me.

It's just not clear yet and probably won't be until more of the story has unfolded. For now, I know that the next step on my path will meet me when I get there, and that the Goddess wants me to enjoy the journey!

Waiting lessons

Until a week ago, I felt that my job situation was in my hands, and I had to DO something about it. This led to a great deal of purposeless fretting and activity. It would have been one thing if I had been able to spend my time applying to jobs, but there are no jobs to apply for. News flash: it's a recession. So, instead of actual productive work towards my goal of a new job, I've been caught in this whirlwind. I've spent a lot of time obsessing over what I could do to change the situation. Could we move? Could I change my career?

Now that I am thinking this is in God's hands, I feel as if there is nothing to do but wait. For the path to become clear, for the opportunity to arise. And it reminds me of the other times in my life I waited -- and the lessons I learned from them.

Most recently, we had a arduous year waiting for our adoption process (preceded by a year of trying to decide how to become parents and years of waiting to be ready to parent). It wasn't a long wait, as much as a rocky one. There were disappointments along the way, then a period that seemed very bleak, when nothing was happening (much like now). We struggled to find a way to cope. I eventually resolved to Count My Blessings, to focus on what I have in my life not on what was missing. And of course, in the end, we are so profoundly fortunate for the opportunity to parent the most amazing kid. We have a great relationship with his birthfamily, and we were able to be in the room when he was born. All worked out for the best - thank you, Goddess.

For the majority of my life, I was waiting to find my life partner. From 15 on, I knew I wanted to be paired, had lots of long-term relationships, but despaired of ever finding the right one. After a series of rocky breakups, I finally took a time out, gave myself six months to just be myself. When I got back in the game, I met Papa D, and we've been happily together for 10 years.

I learned several things from this experience. First, the best way to create your own future to live your life. This seems an important lesson now and definitely goes along with the Count Your Blessings approach. Second, you have to make yourself right in order to attract the best outcomes to you. It's less clear to me how this applies to work than love. Lastly, you do have to be active in your search. I didn't just meet Papa D by sitting at home, and I'm not going to get a job by doing nothing either. But it's more of an openness to opportunities than the fruitless searching.

What can I do now to get through this waiting period?

- Pray for peace and patience, for understanding of my path, for knowing the right thing when it comes
- Live life and focus on what I have
- Get busy by volunteering and learning new things
- Be grateful

Saying Yes

Sunday was another bright, warm morning, and I was able to start grounding on my walk to the church. I realized that last week I was so nervous, I couldn't do anything of the sort. It was so nice to walk up the steps and open the door, knowing some idea of what to expect.

It was a very different service, however. The pastor was in attendance, having been reassigned to the church for another year, and he brought a great deal of energy, along with a sense of majesty, to the proceedings. He spoke about being BACK, how as recently as Friday he was considering tendering his resignation, how there were going to be changes, how the gossip and the negativity were going to end. All very fascinating - how can there be this much drama with only 15 people in the church?

While I am curious about the political issues, I didn't let them distract me from my real goal: finding a connection with the divine again. I listened to the songs and readings, but what spoke to me most was the sermon. Titled "Are We Ready?" it focused on how we get in the way between ourselves and God. The pastor focused his remarks on this passage:

Isaiah 51

¹Hearken to me, ye that follow after righteousness, ye that seek the LORD: look unto the rock whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence ye are digged.

²Look unto Abraham your father, and unto Sarah that bare you: for I called him alone, and blessed him, and increased him.

³For the LORD shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the LORD; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody.

⁴Hearken unto me, my people; and give ear unto me, O my nation: for a law shall proceed from me, and I will make my judgment to rest for a light of the people.

⁵My righteousness is near; my salvation is gone forth, and mine arms shall judge the people; the isles shall wait upon me, and on mine arm shall they trust.

⁶Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath: for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner: but my salvation shall be for ever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished.

I particularly like the reference to Abraham and Sarah, who I have been thinking about in the last week. They are often cited in theological considerations of infertility, having waited for decades for children. They are often described as barren, like the desert in this passage.

I felt there was a lesson for me in my current situation of waiting. For a decade, my worklife has slowly become a desert - losing its meaning and rewards along the way. The promise is of fruitfulness, joy, and thanksgiving in exactly this place.

The pastor asked "Are you ready?" Yesterday, I wanted to say yes but hesitated. Today, if the question is whether I am ready for a change, ready to find that trickle of water bubbling up in this wasteland of work, ready to look forward to a Monday morning - the answer is Yes, I Am Ready!

Mothers

Up until now, we have let Baby E fall asleep in my arms while drinking a bottle in our den/TV room, where he slept until us parents are ready for bed. Then he spent the night snuggled in the crook of my arm, nursing whenever he woke.

Last week, our whole family started a new "program" - that's what I call the elaborate systems I develop for myself and the baby. We instituted a Bedtime Routine - bath, massage, book, kisses, bottle, nursing to sleep - that takes place upstairs and his Baby E's room. After he falls asleep in my arms in the rocking chair, I wait until he's deeply asleep and put him in the crib. When he wakes at night, one of us goes to him and picks him up. Papa D rocks him and soothes him until he falls back to sleep, I nurse him - then we transfer him back to the crib.

The overall goal of the program is that he learns to fall asleep and stay asleep in his crib, but we are taking it slowly, incrementally. The Bedtime Routine is to help him learn to get relaxed and comfortable for sleep, so that eventually we can do what all the experts recommend and put him in the bed "drowsy but awake." Also, the nighttime pattern will change when he's no longer nursing, but right now I don't want to jeopardize my overall milk supply. I believe that the nighttime nursing is one of the reasons I've been able to have the milk supply I do. At some point, we'll stop nursing at night, stop picking him up, and stop going to him - in that order. I'm sure some crying will be involved, but the goal is to help him develop the resources to avoid "crying it out."

The challenging part of the program is the unpredictable waking at night. I'm exhausted, and it's only been a week. It's definitely a teeth-gritting process, every night. To the point where I kind of dread going to bed a little bit, which for me is Highly Unusual.

The wonderful part of the program is the bedtime routine. While Baby E is a bit of a wriggle-monster, he doesn't fight the routine and generally goes to sleep easily. It's become a sweet time when I get to snuggle my little angel in the rocking chair, in the room we lovingly prepared for him while we waited, listening to lovely lullabies from around the world, and watching the sky darken out his window. If that lovely process were followed by a full night of sleep, I'd be in heaven.

In order for him to transition to the crib easily, I need to hold him for about half an hour. Because I'm in a meditative mood this week, this time has become a much-appreciated break from the hubbub of the day. I've been grounding-and-centering every night. This is a basic Wiccan practice that puts you in touch with earth and sky energies, one that I haven't had to time for in years.

I've been a pagan all my life, in the sense that I was "outside the church," but in 1996 I had a spiritual awakening and embraced the Goddess. Or rather she embraced me. It was like a cloud moved and allowed the Sun to shine on my life, and it stayed that way for almost 9 years. In 2005, the clouds returned and I couldn't feel her presence in my heart and in my life anymore. And so it has been for four years.

It seems somehow linked with losing my mother. It's as if She was in my life to help me deal with that loss, but now I'm an orphan, in both the literal and spiritual sense. Hence my seeking.

History and change

As I started to think about the hymn, “We’ve come this far by faith” took on more meaning. I know these spirituals have a long history in the black church, reflecting the yearnings for, struggles toward and celebrations of freedom. When I think of how far Africans have come, from the slave ships to the presidency, I am humbled. And I know faith – or at least the churches – played a large part in those achievements.

I decided to learn a little more about the church I attended. From the AME Zion website:

“…the AME Zion Church made the salvation of the whole person--mind, body and spirit--its top priority. At the crux of its ministry lay racial justice, peace and harmony, thus earning it the title, the Freedom Church….”

I certainly like the focus on the mind and body, as well as the spirit.

“Devoted to religious, educational and social causes, the AME Zion Church and its members have been instrumental in many of the freedom struggles of this nation, dating back to the days when former slaves Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth and Harriet Tubman led the first wave of Black social activism. Since that time, AME Zion members have made other significant contributions. AME Zion Bishop Alexander Walters, along with Dr. W.E.B. DuBois, helped to found the NAACP. Bishop Walters was also a pioneering member of the Pan-African Congress. And many of the denomination's clergy and lay people were active participants in the Civil Rights Movement of the '60s.”

Wow, that’s an impressive heritage.

In my town, the little church I attended seems to have been very active in the 1800s for black education and abolition. The members actively assisted escaped slaves, and the original building was possibly even a stop on the Underground Railroad.<

Despite the song, it wasn’t faith alone that brought our country this far. It took bloody battles, eloquent speakers, tough times, and mighty struggles. Many many people had their hearts and minds changed, and it took incremental changes over many generations to get us here.

I have to remember this in my own journey. I must combine faith and action. It is not enough to sit around and wait for the Lord to make a way, but I also cannot think it is only my works that make change possible.

Harriet Tubman

Will or won't

It was an interesting day to visit the church, because the pastors were gone at the annual conference. So it was an informal service, led by the singer.

It turns out that the congregation was waiting to hear if they would have the same or a new pastor for the coming year. The main prayer was focused on this issue, and the prayer leader exhorted us to trust that whatever happened would be God's will. Whether there was change or not, it would all be in God's plan.

At the time, I was taking this at face value. It all sounded fine, but I didn't see any relevance to me. Then, the next day, it clicked for me.

For the last six months, I have been very attached to the need for a change in my life. Even with all the blessings that I listed before, I have a job that I can't stand and an hour-long commute each way. Since December, I've been combing the (meager) job ads, considering how far I would be willing to commute, agonizing over what kind of a career choice I should be pursuing, and generally working myself into a tizzy. I've had that familiar feeling of being at the center of a confusing vortex with no ground to stand on.

The dissatisfaction with my daily work - and more importantly, the lack of foreseeable prospect for a resolution - has started to weigh heavily on me. It was harder to feel appreciative of all the good things in my life. At dinner, my husband would ask what was wrong, and after months of answering nothing, I finally just tried to explain that there is nothing wrong except having a job that sucks.

On Monday, as soon as I realized that I needed to be able to trust God, whether there is a change in my life or not, I felt relief. It is so comforting to feel as if I don't have the burden of making all the decisions, figuring out all of the plans.

Of course, it raises other questions: How will I know what is God's will and what is my will? How active should I be in manifesting God's purpose for me?

Blessings and disguise

During the service, I was reminded of how blessed I am. The congregation was invited to give testimony, and they spoke of illness and trauma. It was not hard to see myself as having so many advantages in life. These were people who appeared to be old and poor.

I can call to mind my blessings easily: a devoted husband, a precious child entrusted to me by an amazing woman, first-class education, a large house, financial security, relative health, a successful career. This is one of the key lessons from the difficult adoption process. When things were bleakest, I learned to count my blessings, to appreciate what I have in life.

Even before that, speaking with expectant mothers considering adoption sparked deep thoughts about the advantages I had in life. They were struggling with so little to get through so much. Simple things that I took for granted - like a telephone - were challenges for them. They had multiple young children, mental illnesses, drug addictions, prison sentences. And on top of it all, the unplanned pregnancies.

Before I met any of them, I had thought that women chose adoption because one thing in their lives wasn't conducive to parenting. Like the man wasn't involved or they were still in college. I began to understand that these women were considering adoption because they had not one thing in their lives that they could count on. Their families were abusive or absent. They had no jobs, no health insurance, and no funds. They had no partner and no friends to rely on. They had no car or telephone.

I tried to see my husband and I, and our life, through their eyes. We must have appeared so rich, so fortunate, so advantaged. And this is with domestic adoption! One of the reasons we chose it was to minimize the differences between us and the birthfamily. When I tried to compare our situation to that of a third-world woman, it seemed as if a mountain separated us, with us at the pinnacle of wealth and she in the valley of poverty.

I had entered the church feeling nervous about being welcomed, a white woman entering a black church. Unfamiliar territory - would I be viewed as an interloper? I expected to stand out, marked as different.

While it was slightly awkward to be in a new church, it was really no different than many a cocktail party or networking group where I didn't know anyone. There were three other white people already there when I arrived, which was about one-third of the congregation in attendance on Sunday.

But as I sat there, I needed to accept that I have another advantage in life: being white. While the members of the congregation didn't speak about it, I could imagine that their struggles included being of color in a racist society.

Seen through this lens, I have to face other questions:

How much of the challenges faced by the expectant mothers with whom I spoke were because they were Latina and black?

Is my becoming a mother, one of the greatest blessings of my life, built upon the foundation of racism (that gave me the staggering amounts of money needed to adopt and robbed her of the opportunities to parent her children)?

The first step

On Sunday, I attended AME Zion church. During the service, I was so focused on observing and participating and narrating in my mind that I wasn't feeling it. I forgot to ground-and-center before the services started, and I'm out of practice. But I have been feeling the effects.

First, it was just a lovely way to start a Sunday. I proceeded to have a nice, relaxing day with my family. I felt rejuvenated.

The next day, when I recalled the hymn we sang, it somehow sunk in...how the messages of the main prayer were so relevant to me. And I have been resonating since.

We've come this far by faith
Leaning on the Lord
Trusting in His Holy word
He never failed me yet
Oh' Can't Turn Around
We've come this far by faith

(Repeat)

Verse
Just the other day, I heard a man say
He did not believe in God's word
But I can truly say, the Lord has made a way
He's never failed me yet

Chorus
Oh' Can't Turn Around
We've come this far by faith