My Extraordinary, Imperfect, Christian Life

Before I am anything, I am a Christian. Flawed, imperfect, sinful. Christian.

I live an extraordinary life, blessed in ways that would be in poor taste to list.  If I was on the outside looking in, I might be envious of this life.  My life.  But I’m on the inside looking out and it can be plagued with fear and insecurity and loneliness.  Ironically enough, I know that I am not alone in this sentiment and that many of you, in some way, can relate.

Readers, we left off with my hair on fire, dodging swingers on the train and getting dissed by 30-year old virgins.  What’s happened since then - spontaneous trysts, D-List celebrities, men who barely qualify for the ‘half my age plus seven rule,’ men for whom I barely qualify for the ‘half their age plus seven rule,’ old flames, cheaters, liars and stalkers – is, simultaneously, why I both love and disparage my life. 

Last Sunday, I manage to walk into evening Mass next to a major hottie.  I flash him a smile that says, How you doin’?  He follows me in and sits directly behind me.  I’m wearing yoga pants and my shirt doesn’t cover my rear.  In other words, I’ve got him – hook, line and sinker.  He catches up to me at the end of Mass and we walk home together.  It turns out that we live half a block away from each other.  It’s a sign, an early Christmas gift from the baby Jesus.  Dear Lord, thank you.  Amen.  We talk about everything two people could talk about in the time it takes to walk ten blocks during the middle of the Advent Season, including the undecorated Christmas tree in his living room.

Here’s where things get interesting.

Major Hottie: If you want, you could come over and help me decorate my Christmas tree.  That’s my place, he points.  You can see the tree in the window. 

LG: Eh.  I appreciate that you’re Catholic, but I’m not sure that I feel comfortable going up to your apartment when I don’t know you.  Maybe a drink sometime instead?

He gets my number and we end the evening full of promise.  It’s perfect.

When I arrive at my apartment I decide to keep walking.  I’m too excited to go home and slip into my Sunday routine – pajamas, blanket, Showtime’s Homeland and pinot noir.  Instead, I replay our conversation in my head.  Neither of us had ever met anyone in church before, obviously another sign.  Then I get an idea – a brilliant idea - to be fun and spontaneous and impulsive.  I don’t have his number, but I do know where he lives.  I’m going to surprise him.  In his house.  On a Sunday evening.  Unannounced.  I’ll grab a bottle of wine and we’ll decorate the Christmas tree and it will be perfect.  Everything will be perfect.  Brilliant.

Three closed liquor stores (it’s Sunday, after all) and 45 minutes later, I end up on his doorstep with a bottle of pinot noir (some routines I refuse to change), butterflies in my stomach and a hint of rationale thought.  Dear Lord, please don’t let me get murdered and stuffed in his freezer.  Amen.

I ring the doorbell and he buzzes me in without asking who.  I walk up the stairs and he meets me in the hallway, outside his front door.

Here’s where things get humiliating.

Major Hottie: I’m so sorry.  I’m expecting someone for dinner.  You have to go.  Right now.  I’m sorry. 

Dear Lord, sometimes you can be a real asshole.  Amen.

I leave.  My cheeks are flushed.  My ears are burning.  My heart is sunk. 

The following day in Bible Study I ask for God’s peace to be with me and feel the Holy Spirit guide me.  The lecturer tells us: If you have a question, take it to Jesus.  He will give you the answer.

I walk home through Central Park.  I normally listen to music, but I find myself searching, reflecting on His Word.  I am left with a rare silence in New York.  I can hear my own footsteps, the breath of the runners who pass me, the rhythmic sound of the horse and carriage riding through the park at my pace.

Lord, what do you want me to learn from this time in my life?  And since this conversation is happening completely in my head, I cannot help but add: In other words, I mean just look at me!  Why haven’t I found someone to share my life with?  (No, the irony of this is not lost on me either.)  When are you going to stop dicking me around?

I wait for the answer to come to me like a bolt of lightning, but I get nothing.  I ask again, this time deciding to think through the question like I would an assignment at work.

Lord, what do you want me to learn from this time in my life?

Here’s what I come up with:

1)      Trust in God.

Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your lifespan?  Let perseverance run its course.  How can I testify to God’s goodness if I don’t trust Him?  He has authority over every detail in my life.  TRUST HIM.

2)      Life is a gift.  Enjoy every moment, including this. 

As much as I am afraid that God will not answer my prayers, I am also afraid that He will.  I get bored and distracted very easily.  There will come a time when I feel all these things for the family God gives me.  It’s part of the package.  So when child services eventually comes knocking to ask why I hold my beautiful baby boy under water for minutes at a time, my answer will not be to mute his sweet little cries; instead, to prepare him to become a SEAL by strengthening his tiny little lungs.  Obvi.  You’re welcome, America.

3)      Grow up.

If it was just about looks, you’d already be taken.  Stop fishing for compliments from the Omega.  I know who and what you are because I created you.  So yeah, God thinks I’m hot.  His words, not mine.

One of the many ways that I am blessed is with an incredible group of diverse family and friends.  Not everyone can relate to my Christian faith.  Not everyone can relate to the equally exciting and disastrous dating life I lead.  And not everyone can relate to the bizarre sense of humor I have that makes me laugh out loud at my own jokes.  (To this last group, we are not friends, stop reading my blog, and there is only a slight chance that I will ever hold my baby under water for extended periods of time.)  What I think we can all relate to is the everyday hurdles we face with whatever place we’re at in life.  I turn 35 in a matter of days.  I thought I would be better, have more, want for less.  The greatest blessing in my life is the gift of faith and Christ’s peace that is given to me whenever I pray for it.  Readers, in this holiday season, I pray for that peace to be with you.  Please make room in your hearts to pray for me too.