So my Friday is my Saturday. Because I work on Sundays, my weekends start after work on Thursday and because I go to school on Saturday, my weekend ends at the end of the day on Friday. So Friday I am up at 5 (because I take after my crazy father who gets up at five instead of my crazy mother who goes to bed at five...both a.m.) and I read several chapters for class, empty the dishwasher, make coffee and breakfast, then I wash the dog, shower, and got ready for my "day off."
I usually have a nice cup of coffee with my husband, and then I hit the pharmacy and the grocery store before I go home to dust, vacuum, and do more homework.
That's not to say I dust and vacuum every day off. Sometimes I mow and rake. Sometimes I clean the garage. Sometimes I clean out closets or run errands.
What I can't seem to find is that idea of weekend that I thought I'd have when I was imagining what being an adult would be like. Walking through the lush green spinach and lettuce of a backdoor garden and smiling at the rabbits having a snack in your private produce department...reading the whole New York Times cover to cover with coffee, white terry robes, and a very handsome man in my very luxurious bedroom with a table and chairs, sofa, and, of course bed with breakfast tray...sailing in a beautiful boat with good friends and good wine...hiking the Appalachian Trail in very cool boots and shorts...dinner parties in your backyard garden at big farmer's tables with tablecloths and plates overflowing with beautiful food, candles, and no pile of dirty dishes waiting in the kitchen...do you get the picture?
I sometimes look for that in my faith. I want that faith that allows your head to glow with a heavenly light and your eyes to glisten with just the hint of tears of joy and fulfillment. I want a faith that allows me to turn water into wine and have a heck of a party with my 200 closest friends. I want a faith that allows me to walk on water without ruining the topsiders. I want a faith that inspires people to want to build temples in my honor...a faith that packs the house and brings more in.
But I don't live in the TV world and the longer I live and the more I read of the scripture, the more I realize that the childhood perspective of miracles as magic is wrong. Jesus eats with sinners...probably means bad food and less than opulent accomodations. Jesus heals lepers...nasty disease in case you forgot. Jesus challenges the status quo and winds up on a Roman cross for his efforts to love God and neighbor.
Faith is in the mess. Faith is where we do live...not where we want to live...and that, I think, is the miracle.I don't have to create the fantasy to find faith. It's in the real world with me!!
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