Prayers for the Easter Bunny

Last weekend (the one before the Blizzard), I went to church with the parents. This is something I generally try to avoid at all costs. I actually hadn't been since 2 Christmases ago. For many years I tried faking it and just getting through it, but eventually I became less concerned with trying to make my mom happy and just dropped the charade.

Holidays are still kinda tricky though since attending church is deeply ingrained in our family celebrations. Being unmarried/uncoupled also takes away the "conflicting plans" excuse. Because of this and because I've come to view attending Mass as a "free" gift to my parents, I will occasionally attend on a holiday.

So I'm sitting in the sanctuary and all is well when the priest starts his sermon about finding the light in the darkness of the world. Suddenly the waterworks start flowing! People I started bawling! In church! I was sooo embarrassed and confused. Where did this come from? I successfully hid it from my parents (thank you seasonal allergies), but I'm sure those sitting around me caught on. I haven't cried like that in a church since my former bff's mom's funeral a year ago!

After much reflection though I figured it out. See, I don't have anything against people who go to church. If it works for you, then I am happy for you. And actually I'm a bit jealous. I quit going because I realize that for me, praying to God is just like praying to the Easter Bunny. There is just no meaning there for me.

As much as I wish that I could see God as a beacon of light in the darkness (boy could I use some candle light in the cave right now), I just see him as a mythical icon like Santa or the Tooth Fairy invented to discipline children and control adults (those who no longer believe in Santa).

Yes, I agree that there are mysteries that cannot be explained and that there is a rhyme and rhythm to the Universe, but that all was created by some white haired guy sitting in the clouds? Not so much.

But, rather than mocking. I really wish I did believe. I wish that saying the prayers I learned in childhood meant more to me than as if I was reciting the alphabet. I wish that I could find comfort in sitting in the pew on Sunday. Some days I do, but most days I don't. I feel uncomfortable as if I'd showed up naked or interrupted something.

I wish I could get the warm fuzzy or sense of calm and well-being that most people probably feel by being there. The sense of community- that would be nice too.

That is why I cried. I cried because I wish I felt something that I don't. Kind of like when you go out on a date with a really great person, but don't feel that "spark" that makes you want to see them again.

Maybe I'll find my way back to church and to God, but right now I'm sad.