Just Dwell

This is a strangely difficult post for me to write, and I'll advise you to skip it if you do not want to hear about my faith. (I wouldn't blame you. Up until a few weeks ago I didn't want to hear about it, either.)

I was raised Roman Catholic and went to a Roman Catholic school until 1997. (Until 1997, Denominational education was the norm in Newfoundland) Culturally, I would say the closest I would describe myself as is "Newfoundland Irish Catholic...but lapsed." When I have said on your blogs that I am praying for you or your family, I truly am. I am begging something for peace for you, or for for a certain outcome. I'm putting my whole heart into it, I promise.

But I've thought- for a variety of reasons- that religion wasn't something I could...access. Something I didn't have a right to. Because I am gay, because I have had past life regressions, because I sense things and know things.

I envied people of faith- especially people of faith who could be good to me with all those things stacked against me.

And then last weekend I went to a wedding. The secret agents mentioned in a previous post were taking the plunge and getting married. They are two of the most loving, giving people I know, and their faith is very important to them.

We arrived in time for the weekly "kinship" group- a small group of people getting together for fellowship and community and prayer. Their pastor is young and energetic, the father of children, a husband- And he knows what an IEP is, intimately. I loved it. I felt myself opening up to him, and to the couple we were staying with, also disabled, and also in ministry, about the "God moments" I've been experiencing or witness to in the last few weeks or months.

Sweet Keri and her trip to Russia

The family at His Hands His Feet and their sweet Selah's lasting legacy

And all of you- my "Blogger Mamas" who are there when I need someone to talk to, who give me perspective with your joys and struggles, who welcome me...

"God's everywhere." I said many times that night. "And I just don't know what to do with it... I'm not... I don't... I'm not that kind of person."

"Just dwell." I was told.

So I am. And it feels good.