The
scalding water began to run down the back of my stiff neck, and I let out a
deep, guttural sigh. The kind that gets pent up and forced down, buried under a
jam-packed day with no room to breathe. The kind that enunciates relief without
actually uttering a word, grateful for a reprieve from the dreaded homework hour
for a little while longer to bask in the glorious, hot running water.
Tell me all your thoughts on God…
And tell me, am I very far?
My phone
blared from the faux marble countertop a few feet away. Dishwalla filled the bathroom
and hovered in the air like the cloud of steam wafting up from the shower. Trapped
in the familiar but forgotten lyrics, nostalgia has a tendency to rush back in
like a wave, breaking on the sandy beach of life and leaving behind a treasure
trove of antiquated memories.
We said, “Tell me all your thoughts on God
‘Cause I would really like to meet her
And ask her why we’re who we are.
I wonder
if I considered back then the heresy immured in those words or if I even cared.
In the midst of my identity crisis as a hormonal teenager in the 90’s, my guess
is the latter. It does strike me now though, in hindsight, how many of the
songs I once listened to were searching, attempting to mine the infinite
mysteries of the universe and uncover the precious nuggets of truth hidden amongst
the debris. Much like I was.
The door
bursts open and brings me back to reality.
“Hi, momma.”
Hi Eva.
She has
found me.
She’s
good at that—finding me, even when I don’t want to be found. Toddlers are like
bloodhounds in that regard. What they lack in methodology, which involves wandering
from room to room only as fast as their little legs can scurry, they make up
for in perseverance, relenting only upon acquiring their target, i.e. Mom. For
now at least I can keep the shower door closed and maintain a perimeter, albeit
a small one.
It’s getting cold picked up the pace
How our shoes make hard noises in this place
Our clothes are stained
We pass many cross-eyed people
And ask many questions
Like children often do
Tell me all your thoughts on God…
Decades
ago, I don’t know if I would’ve grasped any thoughts on God, replete with truth
and wisdom, in the same manner I do now as a parent. Because the fact is, all
that is distantly profound, all that is simply beheld, will always fall short of experience. Once
you’ve lived it, the preposition fades away, and no longer do you simply know of it, but you know.
And what I know is, those little people who run around my house and find me when I’m taking a shower and make deafening noises and drive me crazy, they sure have taught me a lot about God. Sometimes it takes a parent to really know a Parent. And for that I’m grateful, even in the chaos. Especially then.
And what I know is, those little people who run around my house and find me when I’m taking a shower and make deafening noises and drive me crazy, they sure have taught me a lot about God. Sometimes it takes a parent to really know a Parent. And for that I’m grateful, even in the chaos. Especially then.