Family Time

I've been on Spring Break this past week, which I chose to spend with my family. Ah, my family…where the boys play football, the girls sparkle and cheer, the food guarantees early diabetes, and the cars are as sacred as those who love the Lord. I've concluded that there are two types of people in my family's mind: those who love the Lord and those who do not. I can at least thank Him that a snow storm cancelled our trip to the Creation Museum.* We're all still praying that their struggling Christian bookstore sells—soon.

And yet…

And yet something happened on this trip. In the midst of the stark, cutting, black-and-white worldview, I was unexpectedly reminded of some insight into the world. (Shocking, I know, that another worldview would give new insight into the world. So I'm slow, cut me some slack.)

One of the things I remembered is that, prayer works. Hum. By the end of the week, I had slipped back into "desperate prayer", that sort of last-ditch effort to save a situation of which you seem to have lost control. And it worked. I think I had known this all along, but written it off as cheating. Tough, mature people buck up and face reality, right? Having been reminded of the effect, it's not something I'd snub so readily in the future.

But on a more personal and less utilitarian note, I began to realize that the way my family sees the world is full of a striking joy at the simple weavings of everyday life. Somewhere along the way, I've started taking the cool things that work out just right for granted. A simple, black and white worldview has an advantage in that it can parcel and forget the blackness, stubbornly acknowledging only the white. It's often infuriating for the rest of us—but it's also a pretty awesome skill during a particularly suckish day!

I guess what I'm saying is, I didn't find anything new in this trip. I simply remembered that the baby I grew up with was in the bathwater I dumped outside—and this time, I remembered it with respect and appreciation instead of bitterness and scorn. Part of me wants to hang on to the bitterness. For a long time, the bitterness has been the only feelable thing left, the only thing that gives any meaning to my life. On the other hand, if I'm going to live the stupid thing, maybe I should consider finding some other feelings? Isn't that what Christian agnosticism is sort of supposed to be about?


*In their defense, they knew enough to know I'd probably have some issues with the place. I couldn't decide if that made it better or worse.