Exploring

A year ago I was exploring my faith.
I didn't see it as anything else than looking more deeply to banish the doubts that were lurking.
Doubts over things like giving out condoms to prostitutes- a sin, I was told, putting me out of communion with the church (though that post vanished not long after I read it.)
Like whether Bishops who made statements that contained information that conflicted with accepted scientific research should be subject to criticism of that research (isn't what the Church says good enough for you anymore?)
And to cut a long story short, the exploring led to a shattering of the foundations.
On November 21st, I sent the request asking that my icon be changed. I was in turmoil inside, and the decision to deprive a senior member of CF of a Christian icon because of her beliefs threw up the fact for me that I, too, could not state I shared those beliefs..

"Hello
I originally sent this to one of the mods and was told to send it to a member of Alpha
I've been thinking about this over the last few days/weeks really. I cannot put my hand on my heart anymore and declare that I believe/affirm the Nicene creed in all it's aspects and therefore should treat myself the same way I would have treated someone else when I was a mod. I have a lot of doubts at present but also, the decision about "H" and a couple of other posts I have read have convinced me that I need to do this.
Thank you"

What was interesting was that although I could not at that point say that I had lost all my faith, in fact in a message to a friend I said this..

"Just wanted to let you know I won't be posting in OBOB for a bit.
Because of various things I've changed my icon to Other Church, which means I cant post in the CO section.
I'm still going to church and all that, I just don't like things about the way that CF has done some things lately added to which I am actually all over the place doubt wise
It hopefully will stop me being on so much and hey, it'll sure keep me out of Reilly's."

I prayed for people still, asked for prayers and held on, to what I wasn't sure entirely, but held on I did.
But as I explored more and could only read and not post, cut off, as it were, things got fuzzier.
Until finally, on December 5th 2005, after a weekend in which I had argued long and hard in GA about OSAS doctrine, I realised here I was actually talking about myself

"I think our understanding of another is difficult because we are coming from 2 different approaches.

I can see what you are saying. From a viewpoint that does not believe in the type of spiritual rebirth you are talking about, I would say that if you examined a "born again" Christian in minute detail- their thoughts, beliefs, attitude, prayer life, and their intimate view of their personal relationship with Jesus and compared it with the people who are posting on this thread when they were calling themselves "born again", you would find no difference.

To you, I think you are saying, it is because either they were not truly in a relationship with Jesus or that they were and will one day return, being inevitably drawn back to that which they cannot resist.

To someone who does not believe in Jesus anymore, they have experienced a great loss, because whatever you say cannot undo the fact that their beliefs, their relationship to them was genuine, full of meaning and often the be all and end all of their life. And not believing as you do in this spiritual rebirth, they quite rightly point to you and say, R, I was once like you.

Until suddenly, one day, it all became so much straw."

So I wrote once more to the patient alpha member and asked to be designated a non Christian.

"Sorry S.
I've come to the conclusion that the only honest thing I can do is ask for a change to a Seeker icon.
I cannot really say I believe anything anymore, which is probably the saddest thing I have ever written.
But I will keep seeking and hoping that one day what I had will return."

And now- I'm exploring again but in a new a totally different area of my life and this exploration is fascinating, frightening, at times exquisitely painful but leading me on relentlessly.
Who knows where it all may lead.
I don't think, sadly, it will lead back to faith, but as I bid a fond farewell to CF, a place where I gained so much friendship, but lost so much, I hope at least to be led to a place where I am not afraid to talk and tell about what I am thinking or feeling for fear of being condemned and rebuked, as happened at CF. Because that may lead to change, but not in a good way, in a painful, twisted, nightmare, where things plunge so far down so rapidly, so out of control.
So here is to exploring, but on my terms...
And here's to the "celebration" shortly coming up, of my first anniversary of that nightmare day when I looked in the sky and realised I no longer saw God there...
And in that celebration (ironic word) realise the pain of realising it was all so much straw is the same today as it was nearly a year ago.

A sad day

When the boys were little, we lived round the corner from my sister in law. Next door but one to her lived Chris, the same age as my Tom. He had a chronic skin condition and was very small for his age but oh so lively! He and the boys and the girls from down the road spent every dry day outside together and every wet day inside, usually in our house. Tom didn't mix well, and I would sit on the step or on the wall with a book, to keep an eye on proceedings.
One day Tom had a chest infection and I took him to the doctor. Chris was there with Lyn, his mother just before us with what she thought was the same thing. He'd just gone on a wonderful new drug for his skin, which had left him bald and in need of creams several times a day.
But it wasn't a chest infection, it was heart failure...
And tests led to the sad news that only a transplant would save him and as he was so small and in need of such a quick result, it seemed unlikely.
But two days later, they got the call, while dad was in church on Good Friday.
He recovered well and was back in school in no time, up to his old tricks.
Well we moved away and Tom went to the special school and we lost contact.
And today I heard the sad news that Chris was dead, after spending a period of time in hospital.
And as I think of those summer days, sitting on the wall, the kids annoying the life out of all the neighbours, I weep for his wonderful parents and his brother, who gave him so much of their time and energy and loved him so very much and now are in sorely in need of everyone elses comfort and help...
A sad day...
Please remember Chris and his family as you see fit, I am sure they will appreciate it.

Missing hugs

I am missing hugs
And touching
And shaking hands
And moving quickly around the place, bending, turning round to look at something funny behind me
Walking long distances without worrying about getting back to the car
Lying in bed without being bothered about how I'm going to get up again
Cuddling with Mike


It's been 4 months now and I just want to wake up one morning and not hurt.

*sigh*

However, it is teaching me what others have gone through for a far longer time...
I think I would have prefered a virtual lesson though rather than the full written interactive one.
Still, got to laugh, hey?
At least I've done 40,000 words!!
And tomorrow I've got a lunch break (don't tell anyone, they may find a way to fill it...)
and the day after is saturday and I plan to finish the book this weekend.
Faint heart never won fair lady after all.

Walks and words...

Well I managed 5 miles.

Was probably not wise, my knees and feet are still hurting. My neck was bad too, I dressed several peoples feet and the odd positions I stuck it in are still causing me grief.

But the joints have told me not to worry, that they'll settle down.

So I've gone straight from that into nanowrimo and I'm up to 17,000 words already. It's spured me on to finally leave CF, to empty my blessings bank, tear up my character, symbolically say bye to all there. Lost so much!

So at the moment, I think I'm written out, I've done about 6,000 words today and my head, hands and fingers hurt!

So I'm on a break, listening to Lindisfarne and drinking coffee while the boys watch the rugby.

And I'm trying not to think about Monday or week Tuesday...

After no deaths for ten years, two in two weeks and two inquests in 8 days.

I think that neither will be pleasant, for me and certainly not for the families, wrapped in grief.

Rest in peace.

Moaning bones and laughing joints...

My bones are groaning.
I wish they'd shut up, I can do enough moaning and groaning without them joining in.
They seem to be saying...
"50 mile walk! Are you mad or what??"
I totally agree with them at this point, going to Lourdes for three days and walking 50 miles is not the most sensible thing to do when you have a probable active rheumatoid arthritis...
But if I listen to my bones, I guess I'd end up doing nothing, but sitting at home, wrapping myself up in cotton wool and having a pity party..
So, I'm listening to my joints instead, who are far more sensible.
They say "Keep us moving, but don't stress us too much. Keep us laughing and smiling and oil us with tablets and accept the fact that this is how it is going to be. If we fight off the attack, we'll find it easier to laugh, if we don't, maybe more difficult, but we'll still succeed!"
My joints are far more optimistic than my bones.
I think I'll go with them.
If the arthritis gets better- I'll find it easier to smile but if it doesn't, I cannot make it better by moaning and groaning and sitting in a hole. I need to just listen to my joints, put the bones on ignore and carry on to meet the next hurdle.
And you can see why I have to go from the total I've got...
Thanks to all my lovely sponsors.
*hugs*

Just a little passage I read.

This is- virtually- a copy of a message I sent someone.
Talking about faith, belief and so on...
I do rabbit on a bit...

Just a little passage I read...

Earlier today I found a book I'd mislaid for sometime, found rather thankfully, as it is hard to get.
Another of those little co-incidences
Called "Dance in the Dark" and written by Sidney Carter, writer of Lord of the Dance, it chronicles his loss of traditional faith and his movement from loyalty to Christianity to loyalty to truth, but with a realisation that in truth, he would not be disappointed, nor would he disappoint any God worthy of the name.

This passage struck me:
My Jesus is surrounded by a question mark.
Lack of conclusive proof concerning what he did or said is an essential element of what he is.
What kind of proof can I expect?
Round the lips of pre-classical, archaic staues of the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece hovers a playful smile: ironical and yet serene. There, I find an answer to my question.

"The question you ask is not the right one. The proof you seek is not the kind of proof that matters.
Back your hunch and take your chances, that is how the game is played.
You are part of creation, so create.
To create, you have to play.
You ask for dead certainties; all we offer is living possibilities.
Sulk and you will get no pity.
So take up your fate, your cross (if you prefer to call it that) and use it to create."
The Jesus that I choose is one who takes up the challenge
"You are right" he says "that is how the game is played."
So I create.
I show the song I hear, the dance I feel.
That is what I choose and I back it with my life.


I think I need to stop sulking and get back to dancing!
To dancing in the light and dancing in the dark.
To reclaim the Jesus that I can believe in- his teachings, his compassion, his challenge to live and love; and to live it in my life the best way I can.
Whether I can see a God in the sky or not.

A rose...

The Rose- Bette Midler

When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long;
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong;
Just remember that in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow;
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose.

Time to move on.
I just have to wait for the sun to return, which it will, it always does.
The heaviness that is so hard to shift will ease and be replaced.
But I know that what I once had has perished in the snows, and maybe was never truly there to begin with and will never return.
And I know it is fruitless to continue searching.
Still, I have some life left to live, things to do, sensations to enjoy, sorrows to meet.
Children to bring up and send on their way, cards to make, clients to help and listen to,
Friends to laugh with
Mikey to be with....
Because I have loved life, I shall continue to live and at the end, I shall have no sorrow to die.
Adieu.

No, not adieu..

After all...

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important".

Bible- Why??

I've recently been reading Gerald Priestland's excellent "Priestland's Progress- One Man's search for Christianity now."
Priestland, a Quaker, made a radio series in the early 1980s for the BBC which encompasses a journey through Christianity, interveiwing many different Christians and others to explore his own faith in a personal and deeply moving way.
As I read the views of many people interviewed, one thing that struck me was their reliance on the Bible as the guide for their faith, without any of them really saying why they did that- which to them may be self evident, but in my position at the moment, it is not.
So I suppose my question is why should one regard the Bible as the word of God, and perhaps, more importantly, what does that actually mean to individual Christians?
I'm deliberately posting this here, not GA because I'm not after a debate but answers from Christians to questions I have.
Thanks in advance
Cat

Posted here at CF...
But I asked for it to be closed.
Why?
Well no one seems to understand what I'm asking and I'm not sure if I fully understand it myself.
Directed to how often the question has been answered before, I didn't feel I could say, after reading the answers in the many links given, I know that, all that and it doesn't answer what I'm asking.
I think it's because what I'm searching for is proof and proof will never be found.
And faith has gone, so there's no way back.
But if anyone out there can tell me why the bible?- I'd be grateful...
Or even tell me what I'm asking- it might be a start.

I wept buckets over that thread too- it'll be the last time I do something like that at CF! I'm back to fluff, stupidity and glitter...

Psalm 121

Psalm 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills— where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you— the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

I loved this Psalm.
Every time I passed a hill or mountain, it ran through my mind and my heart.
Being watched over by a Lord who cared
Who would keep me from harm.

Now I knew that was not physical harm
I had my share of that!
Nor emotional, mental harm.
But spiritual harm
I had a God who would keep me safe if I but trusted.

But...
Went pear shaped.
Now the Psalm rings hollow
The cries of victory that once filled me with strength say nothing
Say that I was deluded, the book that once I placed my faith in is no more of God than the writings of all those others...
The faith I held and held so dear was straw, myth, fable.
And I stand alone...

I know I sound sorrowful, which I am.
But I am not looking for anything but understanding.
I have no choice but to feel this way, no option but to walk on
And hope that whatever I walk into will be truth, will be reality
Not fable.
I remain open.
I trust and hope that if out there somewhere there is a god, who wants me to know of him
He will let me know and guide me
But I have little hope of that happening
Sadly.

Psalm 22

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving me,
so far from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,
by night, and am not silent.

I've been crying and praying on and off most of the last hour or so...
Please come back.
But nothing.
All is straw.

Message to a friend

Someone sent me a lovely message and this was my reply. I just wanted to reproduce it here, because it expresses how I am thinking at the moment about missing my faith...

"What I miss is quite simple, it is the presence of my faith in my life and the extra dimension it brought.
I felt secure and loved by a wonderful creator and overwhelmed by a God who became man and died for me.
I had what was for me a relationship with that God- and let no one deny that.
I miss that at times terribly and my birthday brought it out.
Just because a person was once in love with a cheating man who they thought was in love with them, does not mean once they find the truth out, the loss of the love they believed was there does not hurt.

Every now and then this surfaces...and lately, probably because I've been in pain and tired and emotional, it has surfaced with a bang.
But I know feelings do not facts make and as much as I want God back, I know that my wanting cannot make him any more real than Santa.
That hurts like heck at the moment, but sometimes, I have found, I have to let things hurt so I can work through them to the other side."

I cannot just take God back, make myself believe because I don't.
I want to believe as I did before but I can't.
So I just have to work through my hurt and come out the other side, a heathen, as I believe the term is, one of the great unwashed.
And it hurts to know that is how I am thought of, but it is, I guess, what I now am.

Thank you for all your support, my dear friends, I am sorry that it has not succeeded.
*hugs* to you all...

Pity Party

It started because I decided to look back at last years blog to see what I was up to...
And read this... (post 255, 16th Sept 2005)
Funny, the tune was going through my head again.
And I read on, through the months that followed and suddenly saw how far away I was.
And thought of this time last year- of having a "Happy Birthday" thread in OBOB and being part of something that now I am so far from.

Martyrdom by pinpricks
Can't remember where I read that
Rumer Godden?
But pinpricks, continual, persistent, can be painful and hard to
endure.
How difficult to hold back the words, the retorts, the anger!
Leave me alone!
I just want to be alone and live my own life, my way.
But he looks on, smiling at my weaknesses
Look through the forest, work your way through the maze, ignore the
pinpricks, the dross, the padding and go to the heart of the matter.
That God is love.
Active, real love.
The love of God will defeat the pinpricks, the dross, the
superficial.
It will pull the mighty from their thrones and raise the lowly.
It will fill the starving, send the rich away empty.
If love is not there, He is not either.
Remember!

Where did that go?
Why did it go?
And a forum without a birthday thread reminds me I am a branch cut from the vine that has withered and died inside...

If I could turn back time and become just 21 again....

So this is my little pity party
Mourning the loss of my faith
Because it is a loss
It was a positive thing for me
It helped me and made me grow

Well, there may have been negative bits too, but tonight all I can see is loss and I'm weeping.
Boy I hate these hormones...
I want God back.

9/11

Some events imprint themselves on your memory.
Aberfan was the first such memory for me, even though I could have been no more than 7 or 8.
My father had worked down the Merthyr Vale pit during the war, the pit which produced the dust which went on the tip which slipped and killed a whole generation of children.
I just remember it being a dark dark day, my mother crying, my father going to take things needed to a depot.
And being aware that if I had gone to school that day in Aberfan, I would not have come home.

9/11
Coming out of the lecture theatre to be told "there's been a terrible accident"
Only hearing accounts till I got home then watching in tears and horror as people fell to their death, were crushed by the falling towers.

For what?

No words to answer, just Max Boyce's poem on Aberfan.
Wherever we are tomorrow, let us bow our heads and remember all those whose autumns came too soon.

Aberfan
A shy fragile leaf now greens
In a bright and plastic room
On tender stems it offers forth
To cast its earthen womb
Fed by a valley's tears
That watched it leaf and grow
To tell of ones that sleep the night
In Aberfan below

One day those sleepy flowers
Will leave that sunsealed land
And wink away the night
That no one understands
To tell us why that summer fades
In a single afternoon
And why that day in Aberfan
Did autumn come too soon.

The life that I have

The life that I have is all that I have...

Words that rang through my head this morning as I did some reading.
Try as hard as I can, I just cannot believe in an after-life.
That is scary.
Because one day, inevitably, I will die and be no more.
Buddhism suggests meditating upon death as a preparation for it- but they too believe in something continuing after death.
Which I cannot.

Should that make a difference?

The next line of the poem reads...

The life that I have is yours.

If instead of looking for a physical or mental continuation of my life, I give my life and the love of my life away now, prepare for the death and separation that will come and then live joyously with those around me, then death will not be the end of the life that I have lived.

And what better way to do that than by following the path of those wise men and women who have touched so many through the years?

"Unless you forgive from the heart..."
"Love your neighbour as yourself..."
"Go and do likewise..."

Just a thought.

Moans and groans

I had a virus infection about four weeks ago and it has left me with an "inflammatory arthritis" or so the doctor put it so nicely yesterday.
Should be gone in another month or so (didn't like the "or so" bit.)
Meantime, I take some anti- inflammatories, have a whole load of bloods done (yikes!) and suffer in not quite silence for the next few weeks.
I'm not looking forward to my return to work on Monday like this, and I have a peer group meeting and have to cope without my wonderful old ward...
I'm in self pity mode big time.
Added to which hubbie has had a crisis (no details, but extremely worrying and stressful) son1 keeps bursting into tears because he wants a girlfriend like son2 and son2's affairs of the heart are causing me more stress than the rest of them put together.
So I felt close to packing up shop at the begining of the week.
Putting an answerphone message on my life.
"I'm sorry, Cath is not available at the moment, she has left the planet in a cloud of angst."
But I would never do that, too much pain and heartache.
Nice to think of a thought-less stress-less place to be sometimes though.
A day out might even be nice...

OK, moan over.
Today we are going to a bird sanctuary and I will take more photos to bore people with and hopefully have two mminutes to sit and enjoy the atmosphere without son1 sounding off in one ear, son2 in the other and hubbie in the third...

Oh and the pic was an icon I saw in a Church in Abergavenny.
Taize icon.
brought back memories, so I took it with me in my reclaiming quest...

Summer Holiday2

We've all been on our Summer break.
To Yorkshire, to a beautiful cottage.
It had its high points and its not so high points...
Like the power kept cutting out and the lack of privacy not apparent in the advert.
And the weather
And the children, who were demanding and dissatisfied by a great deal of what went on.
T was his usual self, totally focused on himself and his needs and proud of the fact.
"What do you expect?" he answered at one point, as I attempted to haul my aching body round York in an attempt to find the one shop he HAD to go to...
Two hours later, found and rejected as being "ridiculous" for not having the product he "needed." An ice cream helped distract, as always and I had the chance to wander through the rambling shambling passages of York and sit in awe at the wonderful structure that is York Minster.
Mw was quieter than usual, worried about his gf, wanting to speak to her, be with her as she went through a difficult time. But he relaxed gradually and his witty and sharp banter kept up my spirits as my body continued to ache and complain.
M drifted along, above it all, taking T out for walks and drives in turns, reading his books and greatly enjoying the railway museum.
Me?
I took great pleasure from the little things I could.
The brook at the end of the road.
The views.
Meeting an internet friend and his fiancee.
The rabbits playing in the fields by the cottage.
The wind on my face while riding the "pirate boat" with Mw in Scarborough bay.
The views of the Moors, the purple heather, the silence.
Sitting on the couch with Mw snuggling in, watching Shrek2 and listening to him laugh...

Things of incalcuable worth and joy.

Reclaiming Christ

When I was little and growing up, I remember a period when feminists were seeking to "reclaim the night." Looking at taking away fear and dread from the bogeyman who dwelt there, terrorising women into not going into the night and making it once more a place of joy and delight, a time to explore, to allow the mind to expand with the vastness of the sky and the distant lights of the stars.
Today, as I read A N Wilson's book on Paul, my mind expanded and the phrase came into my head "reclaiming Christ." Now Wilson, like others, is not a believer of the historical view of Christ as my old church used to see him. He sees the gospels as being the growing churches interpretation of the life of Christ and feels we will never have a truly accurate picture of the Christ that really was.
But does that really matter, I muse to myself, if I can try and reclaim some of the teachings that still echo in my heart?
It's no use trying to talk with real life people about this, they see only my rejection of what they hold dear. But when I read, as I still do occasionally, the writings of Carlo Carretto or Jean Vanier or Brother Roger or Mother Teresa, these incredibly wonderful people I see that they were driven by something that I want to reclaim, even if I cannot really believe it.
I'm so far away from where I was once, when my life just twirled around Christ.
Is it possible to reclaim that while not believing it?
Is it possible?
Can resurrection mean something vital still, though not once what it did?
Time to muse and ponder.
Perhaps reclaiming Christ means to live Christ, to live resurrection...
Who knows?
I can try though...

When you forgive your enemy
When you feed the hungry
When you defend the weak
you believe in the resurrection

When you wake at peace in the morning
When you sing to the rising sun
When you go to work with joy
you believe in the resurrection.

Belief in the resurrection means filling life with faith
it means believing in your brother
it means fearless towards all...

Carlo Carretto, Blessed are you who believed.

Summer Holidays

So I was on the phone to a friend and she suggested that I join her in a 50 mile sponsored walk. Being in a somewhat manic mood at the moment, I responded in the affirmative with this being the outcome. So I now have 3 months to raise £500 and get into shape for a 50 mile walk in 2 days in the foothills of the Pyrennees, to raise money to take disabled children to Lourdes with our Lourdes group.

So why is a committed atheist doing this? Perhaps my posts back in April about the Lourdes trip (Lourdes1- Lourdes7) will tell why. Despite not believing in the events that took place there, nor in the God that those go there pray to, I believe in the positive effects that taking such children away as a group and giving them the love and care that they need can bring...

So in practising I am incuring the wrath of Tom. Today, we went to Cefn On Park (pics above) so I could walk my mile. Tom was irate and trailed behind muttering about how I shouldn't do things for other people, only him and how hot it was. In the end he told me it was so hot, he wished he could destroy the sun.
"You'd be dead too then" I informed him.
"I DON'T CARE!!!" was the impassioned response.
Recognising by this that our son1 was strongly moved, I probed into why life had got so troubled once again.

The non arrival of a game he was expecting was the trigger and it needed much coaxing and Socratic type questioning to arrive at a point where he would let the sun live.
That and an ice cream helped.
And now he's back happily playing on a game- for the next ten minutes or so...
And I am increasingly thankful that weapons of extraordinary power are out of his hands...

And me, I'm gathering up my energy to do another walk...
So, please, if you know any millionaires, point them in the direction of my site and ask them to send some money to help send some children to Lourdes.
And keep me and my poor legs in your thoughts. They're complaining already...

Busy week

So this time last week I was in Antwerp at a truly joyous celebration of the love that two people have for each other. And Tuesday I was in Glasgow. And today I am recovering from a Ball last night.
Add in to that a busy couple of days in work, emotional turmoil between colleagues and children and you have one busy week.
But, as always, it came and went. Time marched on unstoppable. And in cyber land, feelings were hurt, dramas enacted, rules discussed and pondered and enforced.
And I felt increasingly disconnected from this strange virtual world where seemingly small things take on such huge proportions and my world, where I am ant like amongst the important virtual Christians, who stomp round and trample without thought of who they are crushing with their words and actions.
And who seem so strangely disconnected themselves (with notable exceptions) from the words of the Christ they follow.

And last night, Martin fixed me with his beady eye, inbetween his usual pattern of behaviour and reminded me that I was to come and see him to chat.
I laughed.
Still atheist, I told him.
Made no promises either.
No words of his will convince, from him will come nothing new, all that may happen is a fracturing of friendships.
So I smiled and accepted the Sambucca offered and left him in Martin universe.

And now it is morning and I am wide awake and M snores peacefully and T roams the house in his morning fashion.
Another busy day to face.

Faith 2

Hebrews 11.1
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

What do I now hope for, now that I no longer believe?

Having read this thread on CF, in particular one or two of the posts from Christians, it is as if I have become colour blind to God.
The things they say make no sense.
Once I used to say those things, think like that, believe with all my heart and mind and strength, yet now, it seems like so much straw.
So what do I have faith and hope in?
Those I love, those I cherish, those I trust.
Those real living breathing people that I have surrounded myself with, who work with me and live with me and love with me and laugh with me and cry with me.
And one day all shall be dust.
No substance in my future, just an end to me and my conscious presence in this world.
No gates of paradise to walk through, no beatific vision, no happy ending of the Last Battle for me.
Some may wonder how I keep on living with this thought.
Why not end now, walk away?
Well, I don't want to, I have too much to do, my boys to see to, my clients to listen to and hold through their despair and their dark nights. Who would see to them and who would put on Tom's cream, calm his fears, laugh at his jokes, soothe his troubled brow?
But I retain the right to walk away at a time of my choosing if ever the going gets too much and I have nothing left to offer, no family or friends to fight for, to give to, no skills left for those who need it.
And I can live with that knowledge of the finality and inevitability of death.
It is real for me, as surely as day follows night follows day, that one day I will be no more.
And as reality, I prefer it to the stories I used to live with.
The story of a creator who consigns people to eternal torment for following the wrong path, for foolishness, for silly human pride and weaknesses that we all posses. Who listens to the wailing and gnashing of teeth, but who does not respond for all eternity.
Thinking this through and saying it out loud makes me unspeakably sad, because this is not how I used to see the Lord, the one who was my Lord, my God, my all.
But my vision has altered and there is no way back.
There is no substance now in the things I once hoped for and no evidence of things unseen.
Just me and reality going forward, till I get as far as I can go.