Theological Thoughts for Thursday

We greet each other warmly. The swine flu prevents hands touching. We smile and bow our necks like dainty China dolls. We say words of affirmation; Korean mumbled by them, lost by my Anglophile ears. I'm sure it's pleasant and affirming. It's the closest I'll get to a hug for at least a few weeks.

Hugs are measured out, like sugar by a diabetic's baking wife. Not too many, scarcely any.

Sometimes my prayers consist of nothing more than statements. [[I hate waking up alone every day.]] or [[I know school will get paid for.]] or [[I'm tired.]] My heart doesn't dare ask, but refuses to remain silent. Truman Capote might have been on to something when he said, "More tears are shed by answered prayers than unanswered ones." Perhaps I'm too afraid to pray for the things I really want because I'm too afraid his statement is true. But I need God to know that I need something.

I mumble something back. My long angular body tries to muster a graceful neck bow - probably more Quasimodo than quaint Korean. I do appreciate their affirmation. I need all the affirmation I can get. I surround myself with affirming people; when I have options. Options are lacking from my life. [[I like Options, God.]]

It's like we have an understanding. I'm keeping God "in the loop." I make my statements with the full knowledge that God will act and that I may or may not be pleased by the result - but at least, if the situation gets worse, I can say, [[I didn't ask for this...]] and it will be true by technicality.

I remember the time Lori told The Awkward Story. Lori is a beloved, single, female clergy friend. She taught me a lot about living gracefully through a bad situation. Intimacy with God is one of those sujects that most pastors would sterilize beyond recognition - all fuzzy feelings and no pain and desire. Lori refused. She told a story from her life as part of her sermon on the subject. She explained the lonliness of being "a single gal" in her forties. She prayed for comfort, for a companion. And she literally felt God embrace her in the bed.

It was the most uncomfortable, awkward moment I've ever experienced in church. It was the most beautiful gift she could ever give. In a culture where make-up is a necessity for a woman to take out the trash and no one is ever really honest about anything; her frank honesty about the most intimate aspects of life was shocking and beautiful. It might be the closest we will ever get to honesty.

Perhaps my smile gives away the utter truth that I don't know what words are being shared. I wish I knew, [[I like knowing what's going on.]] I wish I could comprehend. But more, I wish I could lean in for a hug and feel one second of connection with someone here.