People often ask me if I believe in God.
I do believe in God.
my definition of what God is or what God means
is probably very different than yours.
Its certainly not traditional, and it doesn’t involve going to Sunday School
or attending church, or not eating meat on Fridays, or reading a Bible or other book of faith, or taking part in religious rules or mindsets or structures.
I have always found religion to be limiting at best, and dividing at worst.
It is my opinion that religion has caused more problems in the world than it has done good. Wars have been fought due to religious beliefs. People killed for not sharing beliefs of others. People condemned and judged and beaten or harassed or killed because of who they love, how they live their life, who they are. Some people use their God and their religion as justification to hate or to be prejudice or bigoted toward others. I do not find any comfort or peace inside of a church. For me, it is intimidating and feels suffocating and forced. I think that if you are a religious person and going to church helps you, then you should go. I think that people should be able to do whatever best gets them through the day and whatever makes them happiest, as long as they are not harming others with their actions.
To me, God is a verb. God is Love. God is any force that drives in love, peace, understanding. God is a higher purpose and something larger than us, but not something or someone who feels superior or who “has a plan” about who dies and when and how and doesnt want us to ever know his grand plan and we arent supposed to ask too many questions. To me, God is not something we should “fear”, but a force of light and beauty and everything good and honest. To me, God is everything lovely in the universe, and that moment when you feel 100% at peace.
People often say that when they were at their lowest, they turned to God. I understand that. I also turned to God – but God as I understand it to be. I dont always call it “God.” Sometimes I say the universe or mother nature or a higher force. It doesnt matter. Its more of a feeling than a word anyway. I feel at peace and at home when waves are gently crashing on the shore, and it has just turned night time. Im at home when the sun is rising, and Im leaning over a balcony looking at it with awe and wonder. When the rain taps on my window and makes that pitter patter sound. When I spot the moon from a certain angle, on a gorgeous fall evening. When the leaves turn their colors and my heart skips a beat looking at a shade of yellow that feels absolutely brand new. The mountains. The blanket of falling snow. The spring air turning to summer. All of this is God, to me. All of this is a miracle.
It is inside those waves or those falling leaves or on that mountain peek, where I feel closest to my husband who died. It is in the great outdoors that I sense him with me, and where I stop questioning everything and just listen to the wind. It is inside these tiny, majestic moments – that I feel like I am on my way Home.