I wouldn’t say I’m ‘religious’, but I grew up going to church every Sunday. In Scottsdale, our church was big and fancy and for me the high point was the after-services socializing which in the winter meant I could accidentally on purpose brush up against every woman I could find that was wearing a mink coat. So soft! That’s how I picked up my penchant for fur.
In the summer, going to church meant sitting in a rickety wooden pew in a tiny, simple chapel on a wide midwestern plain surrounded by fields of corn and soybeans and watching my grandmother’s legs work the pedals of the organ as she played the Common Doxology and a handful of farmers and I all sang along off-key.
When I got married I converted to Judaism, and I consider myself Jewish but since I have cancer, I’ll take a miracle from any God — Old Testament, or New, Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, whatever. One friend lit a candle for me at Lourdes last Christmas, and just last month another friend was planning a stop at Fatima so I made a candle for her to light for me there.
Sometime during the past month, when I was feeling super, super crappy, a random bible verse from my childhood became stuck in my head. “This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” While I was curled up in the fetal position, wrapped up in coughing or puking or whatever terrible thing my body was doing, this thing was like a mantra on repeat over and over in my mind. I don’t know the context in which this phrase is actually used in the bible, but to me it means, “Suck it up and make the most of what you have.”
Yesterday Fireboy and I went out for a drive in the desert. We pulled over and he went poking around in the scrub while I sat in the car. I hung my arm out the open window and looked up at the sky and the red mountains. A cool breeze came out of nowhere and that phrase went through my mind again and I thought, “How does any of this even make sense?” and just then Brett came walking out of the desert with this in his hands.
When I got home, I felt restless and uneasy. There’s so much uncertainty around me I often wish someone would take me by the hand like a child and tell me everything will be okay. I pulled out my computer and did a search for “random bible verse generator” and clicked the first link.
31,102 verses in the bible and this is what came up: