Word of the Year 2017- Transformation

Transformation:  (noun)

A thorough or dramatic change in form or appearance.

A metamorphosis during the life cycle of an animal.

The genetic alteration of a cell by introduction of extraneous DNA.

In the original Greek language of the New Testament, the word used for transformation is metamorphosis. The biological definition for metamorphosis, is “a profound change in form from one stage to the next in the life history of an organism; as from the caterpillar to the pupa, and then to the adult butterfly.”  An outward change comes from within the life of the organism, the butterfly doesn’t put on a butterfly costume or just act like a butterfly, the caterpillar becomes a butterfly and it becomes a butterfly, over time, and without extraordinary effort BECAUSE the divine force inside It's Creation is destined to be one.  

I think what I’ve been doing for years is donning the butterfly costume over top of my little caterpillar body with the desire to get there quicker. Like when you're a child and play dress up to be something you aren't yet.  I could take my many “to do” and “to change lists” accumulated through the years and use them to  gift wrap all my self-help books and present them to the library of the Behavioral Science Institute. I would probably qualify as a Platinum Donor.  Not that changing bad behaviors, learning new coping skills, or becoming more self-aware isn’t important and a pathway to a better life.  But, I’m not so sure that its sustainable if it’s just knowledge put into some sort of practice without opening up to the need for simple grace and redemption, that spiritual mystery to a truly transformed life.

And, honestly my Amazon collection of "how-to" and "what to" has not helped me get rid of my anger, or fear less, or lose weight in the past year!  2016 has been like walking into a bad dream and not being able to find a door to let yourself out.  

I’ve also tried on the religious hats of a variety of faiths in my quest for this transformation and awareness I hoped would lead to my purpose.  I’ve read enough tomes and attended enough services, picking out the principles and practices that resonated with my heart and tried to leave the rest.  However, most of the time following a path to transformation through the rules and regulations of organized religion disappointed me greatly as did many of its leaders.  We are all flawed human beings, but how could so many religious types be so incredibly blind to Jesus' most basic request  - Love one another?  I didn’t think He meant, love only Christians, or Clinton, or Trump supporters, or people who can afford to pay their own insurance premiums without tax credits, or white people.  Or, those who were blessed to be born in a country that isn’t war torn. Because it isn’t happening to you, or part of your reality,  simply turning a blind-eye isn't a solution.  If being a member of a group that didn’t at least try to walk the most basic and simple teachings of their faith: service, love, compassion, and kindness, I certainly didn’t think it would lead me to the peace of heart and mind I was seeking. The inspirational Elie Wiesel, who suffered unimaginable atrocities as a young boy in a Nazi concentration Camp, said, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.”  Specifically, over the last few years, the indifference I've seen reflected has been disheartening.  And, I haven't been able to  wrap my mind around any  faith that separates people into baskets: good, bad, worthy and unworthy.  Religion seemed to me to be too much like Government.  I'm not convinced the Creator of Heaven AND Earth cares more about the United States of America and its people, than Syrian's and their beautiful, historic land. It is astounding to me that so many can’t grasp we are NOT just one nation under God, but one planet under God.  I mean, seriously... we are talking about the Entity that created the heavens too. That meanness, arrogance and separatism  defied everything I thought I knew about Jesus' love.  While I used to find such peace sitting in silence in houses of worship, sensing God's presence, I now just find myself getting angry at some of the doctrine that builds walls that keep people out. I find more peace being in nature or watching children play.  At this juncture of my life, I know I will not be transforming sitting in a pew or chair amongst the faithful with the kind of confusion and judgment I, myself, am holding against organized religion, support groups and their followers. So, I’ve turned from the regular attendance and participation in a community of "believe my way or you don't fit in," until I can shift to a more personally compassionate place, or, find my tribe.  I've come to realize rather than looking in books and beautiful buildings with steeples, or being a member of groups that only welcome you if you have a particular common ground, there is a better way of transforming my attitudes, character flaws, unhealthy habits and body.  

I have to be the change I want to see. I must reflect the LOVE my Creator is and recognize that it is already a part of me. But how do I get there?

I have a relationship with the God of my understanding, but its been relatively regimented and rote with little real commitment and the superficial intimacy of a Facebook friendship. Yes, I reach out for verbal comfort, validation, and support.   That's not really my idea of intimacy.  I do that on social media too.   I do pray. I meditate. Sometimes that feels like it’s all lip service and dressed to impress. Pavlov's dog performing the same old tricks.  I HAVE changed with all my personal efforts seeking to be this better version, but I’ve come to believe I don’t have to work that hard at it, and certainly not alone.  Quality Time is my love language.  It's time for some one on one with my Creator.  I need reminded that I am His butterfly and with Him, ALL things are possible, and I am smack dab in the midst of where I am supposed to be in my metamorphosis.  

I am not looking for behavior modification anymore. I’m looking for something more powerful. Something magical.  I am looking for soul transformation.  

If my soul changes, everything changes. I want the kind of transformation that can only come from the One who made me, where people recognize the butterfly simply by the grace of its movement, the marvel of its colors, and the delight it brings to the world.  I want a change that is so infused throughout every cell that there is only one conclusion; God's love is flowing through me, his spirit lives in me and I am being guided by His divine patience and wisdom. I don't want to just hear how to BECOME more peaceful, forgiving or grateful. I want to REFLECT all those things because that is the nature of my Holy heritage, His spirit from within me shining forth. I want to let that power take over and infuse my life. 

The transformation I am seeking will begin with the recognition that I don’t have to put on the butterfly costume anymore.  My genes come from the extraneous DNA of that Who is Perfect, and all I need to do is build a deeper relationship, surrender, listen, and then, trust the process.  I have all the markings and have already been named a butterfly.   

All these thoughts: digging deep, self-exploration, trying out new practices this past few years, and a profound desire to be the best version of me; more understanding,  more loving, less judgmental, left me agonizing over my word of the year. Abundant?  Forgiving? Observant? Connected?  Healthy? I wanted it all.  I didn't think I had enough years left to make all those changes. Maybe I don't have to. Maybe it’s as simple as my favorite Bible verse." Be Still and Know I am God." And, then, investing the time to really know Him. He is the change artist and the magician and can do for me what I won't find outside myself or in the world.  I don't need to be perfect and work at life, and change, and growth so fervently.  The metamorphosis is already taking place. Relax. Trust more. Fear less. Through Him all things are possible.  Maybe my word next year will be Supported. But, wait- by then I will know that I already am and always have been.

Note:  This will be my final post on this beloved blog of mine.  The benefits are relatively selfish.  I gained a lot of humility and self-awareness and it  taught me to be vulnerable,no matter what,  fearlessly sharing my stories.  Stay tuned in 2017 - I am in the beginning stages of a new blog that I am hoping will help me accept this aging process and  find the humor in being a Baby Boomer.  Boom Baby! 

Negativity as a teacher. A return to Optimism.

I wrote this last summer a few months after my hip replacement surgery.  It was a great exercise then and a good review now.  Somehow in the midst of the negativity a lesson was learned that opened the door to gratitude again. Through it all,  I discovered how much power I have- granted by the grace of God.  We are responsible for our own happiness, NO MATTER THE CIRCUMSTANCES.  I'm reposting because I need the reminder:  All is well, and will be well, as I head into a scary cervical spine surgery in three weeks.  Three surgeries in three years - I should play the lottery.  Lucky number 3.  Third time is a charm they say.  I am ready to be charmed and I know, this time, Optimism is my best  pre-surgery medicine. 

July 4, 2015 - I was cleared by the doctor yesterday to drive, walk, swim, and bike.  Now, you would think I would be overjoyed to be able to do those things. It was still only mid-summer. These last seven weeks have been a real challenge, especially taking my wheels away. I also wasn’t prepared at all for the emotional roller coaster ride brought on by pain, medication, surgery, isolation, and immobility.  I felt like a child, helpless and dependent on the schedules and whims of other people.   My social life, cheering squad, and shopping needs were in their control. It felt like my emotional well-being was too.   I don’t do well being dependent or asking for help.  I've been self-sufficient for the greater part of my life.  It seemed when I did reach out, my surgically/pharmaceuticaly  induced mood swings and depression was something no one wanted to deal with and I felt that terrible sting of rejection.  Abandoned, once again. Shouldn’t family and friends accept me as I was - mood swings, negativity and all?  They hadn’t just had their hip socket sawed off and a metal rod jammed down into their femur. They’d be cranky too, I thought.  

For a few moments there, instead of squealing in delight because I could drive,  I sat with my doctor and a long list, questioning him on when I could do Yoga, hit the nautilus at the gym, go back to spin class, and travel.  “Not for six months,” he replied.  He had just shown my an Xray of my perfect new hip - the one that was giving me back my ability to live my life as fully as the average baby boomer and it wasn’t enough?  Maybe I needed to relearn that art of gratitude.  I am normally a grateful person by nature so my “not enough” thinking quickly turned to jubilation as I strode to my daughter’s car and proclaimed a  celebration in order.  After she dropped me off from a cane-free walk around a store and lunch, I backed my car out of my driveway just to make sure it would start, and my new bionic gam could control the pedals.  Freedom!   I felt like a prisoner who had served the time and was sprung from a long sentence.  The sky was a little bluer, the world a lot more glorious. The air was fresh, unlike the canned air-conditioned prison laced with the smell of my isolation and, for awhile there, a limited amount of caring about appearances or hygiene on my part.  With every mile I drove, Optimism, once again, rushed through my veins.

 It appeared the road to Optimism could be found by taking the Gratitude trail. 

But, boy was it earned on a long, often lonely road.  There is something about being cooped up for an extended period of time.  I don’t care how optimistic and grateful you think you are, every little character defect (yours and others), every insecurity, every still unhealed part of you is going to show up to keep you company in the still  of your healing journey.  My traveling insecurities would come and go uninvited, sometimes just paying a short visit and other times they would arrive with the steamer trunk, packed up for a world cruise. My head had a difficult time changing course and heading towards Port Optimism. Under normal circumstances, at this juncture of my life, through trial and error, I have learned what tools to use to turn my thinking into something constructive and optimistic.  Nature works well, however, I couldn’t sit outside for a few weeks and the weeks when I could, it rained constantly.  Meditation has been my best friend for a number of years now, but those little minions in my head would rattle cages I hadn’t opened up in years and it took all my strength to keep them locked out. Reading a book was difficult - pain medication and concentration don't make good bedfellows.  I granny walked my way to the computer, pushing my metal walker with the homeless lady bag on the front, and spent hours creating my own little motivational screen-savers to reinforce all the good in my life. I practically wallpapered my phone and computer with them.  The one on this blog post was designed on a particularly sarcastic and anger infused day.  I might be an unpleasant grouch, but at least I would be authentic and embrace my grouchhood.  I think that’s when my 2016 word of the year began to take shape. Authentically a Scrooge.  I prayed to be happy, and then decided no one could possibly be happy considering my situation, so I prayed for peace, at least.   A little voice in my head reminded me, if I wanted long-term peace, maybe I should do a little work and the questions I should ask might go like this.  

What is your anger and pique trying to teach you?  What are the lessons that you will take from this experience?   

Here goes:

I was put out that I had to essentially take care of myself.  After all, I had taken care of just about everyone else in my life  and it was my turn, for a change.  I was a good human being.  A good friend. A caring soul.  As if all my goodness could be saved for a rainy day and God would grant me help because my giving ledger was full.  Wasn’t that an expectation and wasn’t it also ragingly codependent?

I was angry at myself for not taking better care of my health through the years, not making my own well-being a priority and guarding it like I had for others I loved. I had been the one that hadn’t gone to doctor when I needed to, worked long hours, and put others needs before my own.  What could I do about it now?  Absolutely nothing. Again, codependent as hell and martyrdom in its stinkiest  glory.

I was angry for expecting people who simply aren’t capable of support and thinking somehow, magically, it would be different this time.  When would I learn that some people are not dependable? Some people can barely take care of themselves.  I was really angry that I had forgotten, when people show you who they are, believe them.  However, it was a beginning in seeing that I have the power, to choose who I lean on, pick to share my secrets, and those that have the capacity to be there in unconditional love. 

Most of all, near the end of my drive through hip replacement ordeal, I was angry with myself for giving me so little credit.  I wasn’t the helpless victim.  Who better to take care of me and know what I need, but me?  Sure some things were a physical challenge during the healing process, but somehow, somewhere, the strength arrived to get done what I needed to do. 

Finally, shouldn't I have been focusing on those beautiful souls that did help me through a tough time and made sacrifices to see me through it?  Optimism might return if that's what I chose to see.  

I looked back over the course of my life.  It has been peppered with more challenges than most people can even imagine. But the real biography of my life - overcoming, diligence, faith and courage, and the right people,  always showed up when needed.  

Time spent in suffering and solitude guided me to  recognize as the Apostle Paul said, “For when I am weak, I am strong.”  

A teeny bit of negativity never hurt anyone. At least not me. It forced me to examine what was behind it. Being weak showed me how capable I was of taking care of me.  Through the crazy thinking, anger, and loneliness, there stood God guiding me through it all, making me stronger as I drew closer to Him. 

 Another obstacle  traversed on the journey to RENEW, my Word of the Year for 2015. http://examiningmyunexaminedlife.blogspot.com/2015/01/word-of-year-2015-renew.html   I am convinced, there is power in this practice.

RENEW - that was my wish, tossed out to the Universe.  It’s beginning to look like the message was received.  For starters, a new hip - RENEW: make like new.  I can feel a quickening in the pit of my stomach.  Life awaits. It’s  time to  be my own fairy godmother and head on off to the ball. I’m not looking for Prince Charming or someone to rescue me.  I wouldn't miss it for the world. I’m going  because I love to dance. 

Death is just a nap before your tea party with God - Lucas Denzler, a very young man with a very wise old soul

A cousin on my deceased husband’s side passed away suddenly last week.  The gifts my husband left behind for me, are too numerous for a blog post.  It’d take a novel. One of them is the unconditional acceptance and love of a family whose hearts, larger than most, welcomed in my teen-aged daughter and I.   Although he has been gone for more than 14 years now, this family has kept us tucked into the fold, seamlessly integrating my son-in-law, and each granddaughter as one of their own.  Speaking from my own childhood and past experience, I know it does not take a blood line to be family.  I’ve often felt more supported, valued, and loved from those who didn’t share my DNA.  So, when we heard the news of Paula’s death, it was a no brainer to head up North and attend calling hours.  This phenomenal lady was born with cerebral palsy and spent her life in a wheel chair.  Don’t allow the apparatus that supported her body, and her medical disability fool you though.  I would place bets that her life was better lived in 54 years than a good majority of the population, handicapped by an inability to recognize life is meant to be lived full on, and the only thing stopping us, is fear, or the belief that we can’t. There were picture boards filled with her traveling, picnics, jet-skiing, at ballgames, playing games.... dancing eyes and joy vibrating from a crippled body that always tried, and a mind that refused to believe it was impossible.  Her mind won.  She lived it up! 

After visitation, the girls and I stopped next door at a local Friendly’s for comfort food and ice cream.  My oldest, always curious, granddaughter and I, got into a discussion about death.     She’d heard the comments at the Funeral Home.... Paula’s spirit  had moved from the confines of her broken body and wheelchair and she was now running in heaven.  Free at last and greeted by family and friends who had passed before.  I happened to echo those sentiments over our sandwiches and fries, adding,  “You know Alex, there are people who have claimed to have gone to heaven, and returned to tell their story.  They call those “near death experiences".  Those individuals have all said, they did not want to come back.”   I happened to know she is somewhat familiar with this proclamation, because this little seeker, asked for, and received, the book Heaven is for Real a few years ago.  This is the story of a little boy who clinically died, and had such an experience too.  So, why was she looking at me, horrified, and why was her response,  “If something happened to me, I wouldn’t want to stay in heaven. I wouldn’t really know anyone there.  My mom, dad, sisters, and friends are here.  I know I have family in heaven too, but I never met most of them and I haven’t gotten to do enough things yet.”  I wanted to tell her so many things to reassure her, while keeping it age appropriate. I wanted an easy and profound response to be in line with the Christian beliefs she is comfortable with to avoid even more confusion.  With those barriers in my mind, I found myself tongue tied.  So, I said very little and simply nodded in empathy as she explained that her earthly life was preferable to heaven. Lying in bed that night, I wondered what I would say to her if I spoke from my heart, laying aside the filters. What do I believe about death and life after?

Here is what I know in my own heart to be true...  Heaven is where we all came from to begin with, therefore, heaven is our true Home.  We’re just visiting here; spiritual beings, having a human experience. Our true nature is that energy, the soul.... infused with the Holy Spirit,  that lives in us and never dies. We are here to taste life, love, and friendship: give, learn, teach, and grow more beautifully into our spiritual skins.  This realm, simply, is both classroom as well as playroom. But, it's not Home.  We are here for a specific purpose as well.  It may be to change course, impact someone else’s path, invent or create, or even correct some karma.  And.... this, I know, is where it gets dicey for those of different faiths and beliefs.  Yet, for me, it is what I believe. I intuitively know this as a deep truth, FOR ME, and it gives me great peace.  I believe we are born again, and again, and again, reconnecting, intertwining, interchanging roles, with others: from our past, present and future.  As a child, (and I was a seeker even then) I sat in awe and witnessed the vastness of the Universe and heard about time and eternity,  I could not imagine a God who would allow us to live on earth, for a mere 70-80-90 years ( a blink)  and then it would be  time for permanent retirement,  lolly gagging in heaven.  Not my Creator.... always Creating, and Re-creating.  Rebirth simply makes sense to me... a recycling, like the seasons, birth, growth, death, renew. Meeting again, and again through all time.   That would certainly eliminate Alex’s fear of not really knowing anyone in heaven should her present life be cut short, but I am sure I won’t share that with her at this time and that’s all a much bigger blog post, for another day. 

What I would share with her, is how close heaven really is. 

My father passed away after a long journey into the depths of Alzheimer's Disease.  The one constant, even though his mind, recognitions, and perceptions were ever driving him into inner darkness, was his adoration of little ones.  The final months of his life, we were visiting him in the nursing home.  While I’m still unsure if his eyes even knew who we were, I'm convinced his spirit did.   His eyes lit up at the sight of Alex and he broke into smiles and laughter as she danced around him, teased, and played with him. Their love for one another and the obvious joy in each other’s company, needed no words.  A few weeks later, post his funeral, her mother and I were in the basement, taking care of some laundry.  Alex, was playing on the other side of the basement wall.  We heard her chattering away, laughing and talking.  Her momma asked, “Alex, who, on earth are you talking to?”  Her reply, “Grandpa.  He’s here!”   

Maybe she just needs a reminder.  Heaven can be found looking through the eyes of our hearts.  When we tear down the barriers of doubt and skepticism and construct a bridge of belief and faith, we see heaven is just over the horizon, out of sight, but still for real.   She used to be able to easily connect with it  when she was a very small child, fresh from His arms.  As the years pass amnesia sets in and blocks that connection.   Maybe that’s a good thing, our spirits  would be pining for Home while we are here on earth.  There is a penetrable mist that separates us from the loved ones who have passed before.   We simply need watch and listen with that eternal Holy piece of ourselves and reach beyond it.  It is right there that we will always find them.  

Death is just a nap.... A quick refresher, to prepare us for the biggest party of all--- our tea party with God.  Pinky finger out, Paula!    

The greatest act of faith takes place when a man finally decides that he is not God. - Johann Wolfgang Goethe

Coming to believe, making the decision and conscious contact...... My emerging love affair with God...

I grew up in a traditional Christian faith, a denomination whose doctrine was relatively  rigid and really intimidating.  I rarely felt home there, and so many of the beliefs, I just couldn’t wrap my mind around.  Even at a young age, they didn’t make sense to me.  If God was so powerful and created everything, why would he act like an insolent child and with the stamp of His big foot, destroy the world?  Sure, people were acting in an unrighteous manner, but isn’t He supposed to be above the pettiness of retribution and judgment? After all, He’s God!   And what about His forgiveness message? I need to forgive others to be forgiven?   Didn’t that apply to Him too? Turning folks into pillars of salt, or condemning them to eternal flames didn’t sound particularly compassionate.   To me, He acted like a big bully.   I can’t say I didn’t believe in God, because I did.  I just really didn’t like Him much.  I attributed any suffering in my life as His punishment, doled out because I was a bad person.  The Bible alluded to that,  and I probably couldn’t pay enough dues, nor would there be enough of Jesus' blood for me to gain admittance into heaven anyhow.  I later decided, I really wouldn’t enjoy heaven much anyway since the folks that were going to get in, were obviously brown nosers.... and it must be just a big clique based on favorites and exclusivity, not really much different than life on earth.    There was enough dishonesty, judgment, and anger already present in my life, and if that’s what folks were all about that entered the kingdom, it wasn’t for me.  This idea of calling Him my Heavenly Father was absurd too.  He was sure doing a lousy job of taking care of His child (me) in my mind,  and frankly a real poor example.  Did He walk like He talked?  No way.  If that was what God and religion were all about,  well, who needed it! 

 For many years, I drifted after cutting the cord of my childhood faith and dipped my toe into the fountains of one religious affiliation after another. No immersion for me, just a short visit to review the particulars of each one's varied beliefs.   When any scent of punishment or damnation entered the picture,  I would be off and running in my quest to find a God of love.  I seriously traveled many spiritual roads; from TV evangelists, to the study of other religions, until one would disappoint, again, in their imperfection and humanness.  Perhaps man may have been created in God’s image, but I didn’t want my God to think like man!  I just knew I was better off taking care of my own business because there wasn’t any tangible support coming my way - not from Him, not from anyone.  

I thought I was doing a fine job of it, until I got into a little trouble in my late 20’s with alcohol.  As I spun out of control leaving a wake of destruction in the path of those who had the unfortunate sentence of being a part of my life, I began to recognize, this was something even I couldn’t manage to take care of on my own.  All my attempts at self-control, discipline, and will-power were failing miserable.  I was in a real predicament.  Praying to THAT God of my childhood was not an option for me here either.   At the lowest ebb of my darkness of the soul, I cried out to ANYTHING out there, literally,  and asked for reinforcement.  Seems the plea sounded like this... “If there is something out there,  please help me. I can’t do this myself.”  From that point forward, my problem with alcohol was lifted.   It wasn’t until several years later I recognized what had happened.  Twelve step groups are based on a series of suggested instructions for release from the bondage of addictions, self will run riot, and hopeless lives, providing a pathway towards rebirth, and serenity.  The First Step asks me to surrender and recognize my powerlessness over alcohol, life, food, relationships, (pick your poison). No doubt, I was powerless.  The Second Step asks me to come to believe there is a power greater than me (totally against everything I was taught but what were my options) who could restore me to sanity. The Third Step asks me to just make the decision to turn my will and my life over to A power greater than me.  It doesn’t define that greater power.... It doesn’t say, it’s God, Jesus, Buddha, Lao Tzu, the Republican Party or the current man of the day. It doesn’t tell me I have to be good enough before He’ll help.  It doesn’t even say it’s a He. Just a power greater than me.  The simple acknowledgment that there actually could  be SOMETHING greater than myself, was enough to set into motion the best journey of my life; seeking  a God who works for me in ways that create an environment of love, kindness, flexibility, honesty, growth, and evolution.  This God is the God of my understanding.  Not my daughter’s, my neighbors, Moses, the Dali Lama, Buddha, or the Christian Church.  Instead, a God I have come to know as pure love, present in my life always, revealing Himself (or Herself depending on whether dudes are in my good graces that day- it doesn't matter, I can't put a label on God) through others, nature, and acts of generosity, compassion, and love.  What a beautiful beginning... 

Step Eleven came about a few years into my pursuit of the Twelve Steps, and this new found God of my understanding.   Step Eleven asks me to “Seek through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact.”   This is not a chore for me. This is where the joy comes in.   I know now, all those years of questioning and conflict have simply brought me to a place where I yearn to move closer and closer in my relationship with my God.  There is a lovely Sufi saying which says, "Our longing for God is God’s longing for us."  I believe we are all born into this world with that longing. It may get hidden under layers of fear based teachings designed to keep the masses in check, but  that desire for relationship calls us home, and asks of us that we just recognize that there is a God, and we aren’t it. Then, the fun begins.    

Religious Beliefs are as unique to an individual as fingerprints.  Sadly, we live in a World of intolerance.  We attach labels to people and their faith - He’s a Muslim.  She’s Catholic.  He’s a Buddhist, or a Spiritualist.  We have so many versions of suggested pathways to God.   Christianity in itself has too many denominations to count.  I used to  wonder if they all read from the same Bible, each one interpreting it from the mind and voice of man and a diversity of personal opinion.  I wonder how many people are sacrificed at the altar of Religion because of  close-mindedness, judgment, and attempts at control through fear.   Fear never works as a motivator, not in the long haul.   Fear is the Petri dish of intolerance, hatred, isolation, and a myriad of other ugly byproducts like deception, dishonesty, murder and war.  My God is a God of love, and love alone.  My God would never be a champion of any of that.  My God works for me and in me, to create the kind of human being I want to project to the world.   I'm not perfect, but I do now have a goal.  And that goal is to think like God thinks, one day at a time.   In order for me to do that, I can't afford to entertain those qualities that arise from man - fear based judgments and territorial teachings.  

I have come to know, in an intimate manner, there  is a Power Greater and I'm not it.  Thank God.  Because I'm not it, means I have no right to impose, or judge others Power Greater.  All those years.... walking away from the God of "my religion's" understanding has led me to a better, more honorable place for me.  One of awe, faith and joy.  It's brought me to a place where I can take what I need from the roots of my childhood religion and discard the rest.  I enjoy gathering with like minded others in the worship of our Creator in many places.   I just tune out the judgment parts and keep my eyes on the examples of His LOVE in the cross of Jesus,  and the faces of those who have found a God of their understanding.   CS Lewis says it best:  "A man can no more diminish God’s glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, “darkness” on the walls of his cell." I believe that and I believe God reveals Himself in many beautifully different and divine ways. 

I choose a God of Love as the God of my understanding.  May you recognize you can choose what works for you too.  If you're struggling to find one, you can borrow mine until you  find your own.  My God loves you deeply too!