My daughter got a postcard in the mail today announcing the beginning of Sunday School in September and this year’s theme. We do not attend church, and I was not expecting it.
“Good God, it’s Christ the Righteous!” is what I said.
We are not religious people. I grew up Jewish, my husband, Catholic. I have never cared to be observant–I have been ashamed, annoyed, awed, inspired, and baffled by religious people of different faiths. I have rarely been envious of them. But I have praised a personal God most of my adult life.
Before I was pregnant with Molly, I loved daydreaming of what I would tell our child about God. My faith was strong. My relationship with God still is. But it is different. Much of my heart changed when I became a parent–and my faith changed in a way I didn’t anticipate. It is impossible for me to stay in the same place with God as I witness a world in which children are casualties of war; where natural disasters strike schoolhouses; and lately, I am without words for the discrimination being celebrated in the name of Jesus Christ.
I no longer have answers for the questions my almost-five-year-old daughter has or may come up with. For the first time in many years, I do not know what–and if–I want my children to believe. This does not feel awful–or even bad–as I had imagined people without faith must feel. It feels temporary, but right. It feels like the cool nighttime after a cloudless day.
I began writing this post in the midst of a big blogging conference last week. I was angrier than I am now about national events and filled with nerves about the conference. I am not a writer who does well with anger or intense anxiety, and I am glad I waited–and deleted.
I was truly nervous about attending BlogHer because it was my first. I could say that, like any virgin, I didn’t know what to expect–but I did. I expected to feel self-conscious and awkward.
One thing that helps with anxiety is shopping. One thing that helped with conference anxiety was a pair of gold ballet flats with a tiny adorable heel. They were expensive and will probably not see much of New York City streets this fall. But like all things golden, and many a pair of shoes in the movies–they promised good, magical things.
I still felt out of place among almost 5,000 bloggers. I swear–it seemed they all knew each other. And I didn’t know which sessions to pick or where the rooms were or which way the doors opened. I had to steady myself and take a deep breath many times to stay ahead of the panic.
I didn’t meet as many of the writers I admire or follow or even know on social media as I had hoped or would have liked. I don’t have many pictures with people. I walked around by myself most of the time, and there were awkward and odd moments when I felt like all eyes were on me.
I sat in one session without a familiar face anywhere, having very much to pee, noticing about 40 minutes in that there was no clear path to the door–no way to leave the packed room without walking through a tight aisle and over 30 people’s feet. So after a few false starts and having gone over my escape route in my mind, I picked up my many bags from the expo hall visits and whispered “excuse me,” “I’m sorry,” “oops” all the way to the door–when I realized I’d left my purse under my chair. Sigh.
Each day I was close to giving in to my fear, but my need to see things through forced me to go–that and that my alternative was staying home with my children. And I am grateful for the courage.
I was reminded how much I adore the community of bloggers I am fortunate to be a part of in this city, and how quickly and easily and miraculously I felt like myself among a sea of beautiful, smart people. There are moments of quality conversation with understanding friends that I would have never had otherwise. There are a few funny, warm and new friends I can’t wait to know better.
And as the summer nights become shorter, as we sign up for autumn swimming classes and look into ballet schedules and check our list of necessary supplies, I continue to wade through my insecurities, all my best intentions, my unsteady faith–with hope and a burning need to soon, again, bring out my golden shoes.
It is much easier to face our fears when donning cute shoes. I wish I could have gone to the conference! Maybe we can all meet up at another one…
OK, the religion. J&C go to “joyful noises” and know far more about Jesus than I, and I still haven’t baptized them. But for the rest. You are like me in the sea of photographers. You are fabulous, but you doubt yourself because you do not have 40K FB fans. You have great words, but you aren’t offering a free XYZ to the 41K fan. And so since you are just amazing to those who know you, and will be to whoever finds you, you have to be OK with being the one that is just amazing in your world. Your world with grow, with people that get you, and when that happens, there will be no bumping into others and wondering what you are doing there. You will HOLD COURT sister. You are a trained writer, and no doubt more skilled than those you are dying to meet. You ARE the beautiful and smart people. I struggle with all this daily in the world of “photog celebs” and ultimately I have to just believe that I do my work for ME, then my clients, then the world of people that read blogs (photog blogs and otherwise). Can we have a weekend together? You can wear the shoes!
You are a star for many reasons–not just because of your talent and accomplishments, friend, but because of how you treat your friends and family. Thank you a million times over for putting a smile on my face today. Let’s please have a weekend of gold shoes and laughing?! you name where/when. xoxo
and i get if you don’t approve that for visibility on your blog. but honestly, this plagues me about my industry… i could go on.
It is funny how that little something special – e.g. shoes or whatever – can give you that extra boost. And I know just what you mean about conferences. At the writers’ one, I was standing outside of a room trying to figure out what to do next, and another blogger came up to me and asked if I was okay, because I looked stressed. Ooops — so much for my attempt to look like I knew what I was doing 😉 Excellent post!
ha! awesome. I wish I could have filmed my attempt to get up to leave for the bathroom. it was really a classic for me. UGH.
Woah! LOVE the shoes! They could replace Dorothy’s red shoes, click and make a wish 🙂
When I read your experience at the blog meet, I thought, “Oh my gosh, that would be me.” I could relate to the feelings you expressed in this post. Kudos to you for going!
thank you for coming by! I do love those shoes–it would be great if they did have some true magic to them indeed!
I just love how you share your heart Wendy! I am honored to hear your thoughts and musings and see your cute outfits and AMAZING gold shoes on your blog and in real life. Wish I could have been there to feel akward with you…you know I’ve got that down pat! I love being your friend. It is just a sheer delight and gift to me. Can not wait to catch up in person when I get home!
The shoes *are* pretty amazing! Lol. Thanks dear for the kindness — it means a great deal- can’t wait to see you!
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