Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret

I do make jest of my relationship with the big man upstairs (as is evident by that statement. Well played, Melissa, well played...). The fact of the matter is, though, that while I believe and have very positive feelings about God, Jesus and the gang, I know very little about how it all came about. A little part of me wishes I did, but another part of me is satisfied to keep going the way I have been.

Just last night, sitting around the table, there was an even balance of regular church-goers, and Sunday couch potatoes. Me being the couch potato, I found that I would explain and defend myself and my lackadaisical efforts to the others. And my friend kept asking why do I do that, in not so many words.

It got me thinking.

Am I regretful of what I don't know? Do I feel that I missed out on something? Why must I justify this?

To be sure, I am always impressed with people who have a strong faith. Strike that. I am always impressed with people who have a strong, loving and positive faith. Perhaps I have a twinge of jealousy, knowing that they have such a strong connection and confidence, and I do not. But I don't do anything about it to change it.

Instead, I give my action figure Jesus a high five before bedtime, and stand him back up, should he be knocked down. I smile at him and say thanks. Sometimes I nod my head at him and say "word to your mom." That is how I roll.

I suppose that when I am with someone who is all confident, I feel I need to voice that I am not a heathen. Just to be sure. Just to convince myself.