Target, Tassels, and Tough Times

I went shopping at Target yesterday. I guess that must mean I'm wrestling with anxiety. I knew it wasn't going to be a perfect outlet, though -- Grace is in this phase now where she hates sitting in a shopping cart. So I knew that the fruit snacks and cheez-its would only last so long before the whining, the tears of frustration, the straining at the seat belt would commence. That only adds to my anxiety, making my shopping experience very unpleasant. And then there's Aidan, who for some reason becomes absolutely clueless when he enters a large store and can't seem to figure out that he needs to watch where he's going. I stopped counting the number of carts he ran into, how many times I said "excuse me" on his behalf, how many times I ran my own cart into the backs of his heels. But I guess I needed to shop.

I picked up the usual: paper towels and t.p., paper plates and napkins, Children's Tylenol, the biggest box of size 5 diapers I could find, a bag of Starbucks' Cafe Verona (bold) whole bean coffee, new underwear for Aidan, etc. Nothing for me -- that would be rare. I was completely annoyed upon leaving the store to find that some Orthodox Jewish young man (or Conservative, I couldn't tell the difference -- but the curls and the long white tassels hanging off his belt loops caught my attention) parked his car not only next to mine, but in my own parking space. He was far over the line and at most six inches from the driver's side of my car. He just looked at me and continued walking. What do you do in those strange circumstances? I had to climb in through the other side, hoist Grace over the back of the seat and literally toss her into her seat (since I couldn't obviously open her door). Then I had the very undignified task of climbing over the center console into my own seat, doing a very pathetic Britney Spears' imitation and flashing the Target customers in the lot, since climbing in a short denim skirt is, well, not what I had in mind for the morning.

It was a strange morning, but a good diversion. My mom spent all morning at the hospital undergoing a PET scan. It all seems so surreal sometimes. I wake up in the morning and often do think this has been some kind of bad dream. It takes about 10 seconds for reality to settle in, and then the heart feels a bit heavier. Oh, right, THAT'S what is going on ...

I've been thinking about my own spiritual journey and the unbelievable hard knocks it's taken. I thought of my grandma and how she relied on her faith and her own worn, tattered, rubber-band-bound Bible right up to the very end; I thought of my mom who despite her fears keeps saying with strong faith, "I don't know why this is happening, but I know God is with me." But what shape has my faith taken? I realized today that I've experienced a lot of things that many people have not, nor ever will. I further realized that my own faith, my own image of God, my own thoughts and understandings and what I have always relied upon have been shaken up. Now that's not always a bad thing -- if nothing else, it forces you to get out of your faith's comfort zone and cease to take it for granted. But lately it hasn't been feeling like a good thing. What I've been feeling is that I'm not sure what "rock" I'm leaning against anymore. Oh, I'm not doubting God's existence or anything like that. But those assurances, those promises, that faith that people like my grandmother fell back upon so effortlessly ... where is that? In the process of my own "shaking up," all I sense right now is the swirling sediment, with no real "form" to grasp. And perhaps that's why I feel the fear that I do, in those weak moments where I just cannot stay strong anymore.

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Last night we received a much-needed break. My sister-in-law offered to take the kids for dinner so we could go out. Amazing! We went to a cute, wealthy, picture-perfect little town nearby and ate at a pub-type place. They are known for their huge and ecclectic offering of beer. I couldn't resist ordering something purely by its name: Smuttynose Old Brown Dog Ale. Who could pass that up?! Those two hours without the kids was ... too short. Far, far too short. But priceless all the same.

More ramblings, perhaps getting more incoherent by the post! Sometimes things are just too big to think about for long, before mental exhaustion sinks in. Oh, how I wish with all my heart, all my being that we didn't have to face this now.