faith

Angela has been blogging for two months and already she's posing, literally, the most difficult question that exists. Asking for gardening or baking tips just isn't her style, not when the world at large still hasn't come up with a satisfactory explanation for the meaning of life.

How do you have faith? (How is it possible to feel certain about whatever it is you believe?) And for those who don't buy into "God," how do you find satisfaction in a life void of faith?

Let me start with the conclusion and work backward: You don't create faith by yourself. We humans? We're just not that talented. We were created to NOT be that talented. We were created to STRUGGLE with faith.

If you've ever taken a philosophy class (and had one of those great professors that pushed and pushed and pushed until your breath was huffing and the only answer left to give is "I guess I don't exist!"), then you probably know what I mean when I say that the human mind has limits. And language has HUGE limits. There are emotions that have no words. Explanations that have no words. Occurrences all around us that go unknown. It isn't too difficult to imagine that in the great fabric of this life, we are only able to see and know a few of the threads.

Now God, he's the pinnacle of the unknown. First our limited minds and then our limited language make it so that we can't get a real grasp on what he is, what he does, or for heaven's sake WHY. (Note: I absolutely hate that we call him "HE" when gender has no place at all in the concept of GOD.)

I was raised WELS Lutheran. For those who don't know, they're the strict ones. They look at the Bible and feel that every single word is the "God-breathed" truth and no rule ever, ever bends. This is the LITERAL branch of the Lutheran religion.

(Another sidenote: Who decided which "books" of the Bible were God-breathed and which weren't? A room full of men hundreds of years ago, according to The Da Vinci Code. I love books/movies that make me question my faith, and I think God does too!)

Anyway, for Lutherans it's all about the TRINITY. God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost. So God the Father is up there looking all mighty (like Keifer Sutherland or maybe Bruce Willis). He created the world. Now he hangs out there watching everything that goes on here and answering all our prayers with "Yes," "No," or "Later." (What must THAT inbox look like?)

Then there's God the Son, our pal Jesus (Christian Bale or maybe Leonardo DiCaprio). He got to hang out with us confused humans for a while, then he went and DEFEATED DEATH, which (kind of like a Disney movie) was the magic hocus pocus needed to save us from damnation, Hell, our sins, ourselves. Awesome. No more sacrificing animals to get ourselves to Heaven.

But then there's the holy ghost. Kind of the odd guy out (played by Zack Galifianakis), what does the holy ghost do? Play solitaire?

I was told that he is all about FAITH. He creates it, he brings it, he makes it possible for us dumb humans to believe something so outrageous, even when it goes against our so-called good sense.

In order to receive this gift, you have to ASK and you have to HEAR.

I can't tell you how many times I've heard this or thought it myself: I don't have any reason to go to church. I already know everything the pastor says.

I know this makes it sound all cult-y and brainwash-y, but the more you hear it, the easier it is to keep your faith whole. I think it's because it makes you think more about God in your day-to-day life. The more you hear his name and the words in the Bible, the more they pop into your head at random moments... and it's helpful. It's peaceful.

But you have to ask for faith. You have to want it, and work on it, because it DEFINITELY will go against your common sense.

The bigger question from Angela's post wasn't so much how do you believe in God, though. It was how do you believe that you're believing in the right faith.

No one knows absolutely if their faith is right. If they say they absolutely know, then they're full of sh*t. I'm biased toward WELS Lutheranism because it does make sense to me -- you can't only believe some of the words in the Bible, you have to take them ALL literally. (Another sidenote: Lutherans aren't so stupid as to take parables as true stories, etc.)

But just like there's always a tiny voice in your head that says, "What if God is a fairytale?" that voice might say, "Maybe the Muslims have it right!"

And that is good. GOOD. Because if you're allowed to question your faith? You aren't in a cult. You're in a conversation with God. And he LOVES that.

19w 4d eating

What must it be like to have only ever eaten one thing? How jarring must it be to discover a second, all new taste and texture?

This was our first rice cereal attempt last weekend. Tonight, thanks to a tip from Andy's coworkers (and learning as I go), Fletcher's feeding was a success!

Tip No. 1: When mixing breast milk and rice cereal, add in some baby applesauce. It appears to have improved the taste.

Tip No. 2: Load the spoon, then hold the napkin under baby's chin, then wait a few seconds for him to hold his head still. THEN tip the spoon into his mouth.

We're learning.

one of the many hats he never had a reason to wear

The latest video: baby squeals.

18w 5d blogging

I just added my blog to the waiting list for BlogHer, and I find myself wondering how serious I am about this blog.

I'm a marketer. The fact that I didn't start this blog with the aim of marketing it, and so I see its marketing flaws, bothers me out of habit. The title isn't catchy and it didn't translate to my Twitter account. Half the posts are photo albums, not insightful or designed to illicit response. Most of the time, I don't even write as if I have an audience because... well, there are only five people on the planet willing to admit that they "follow" these posts.

If I were very serious, I would have to start making changes. First, I'd need a short and catchy title. Then, I'd need to do some networking, delve into all aspects of social media, do some small advertising through AdWords, and once I find some visitors I'd need to fill my posts with links to my other posts to keep them clicking. I'd have to stop lurking at the other parenting blogs and start commenting with links to my blog. Actively try to be funny, throw in some controversial topics, dwell on tragedy now and then, and I'm set.

I'm not going to do that, because I'm not serious. Not in the make-a-living-with-my-blog kind of way. (And I'm not judging people who do make a living with their blog – just the opposite.)

I don't want to have to study my posts before they're published to optimize them for maximum pageviews. I don't want to edit out the long and boring posts that I write, because I may want to go back someday and remember what a day in the life of baby Fletcher was like, even if no one else cares to read it.

That's the crux, I think. Do I care if no one else cares to read it?

I'll always think wistfully about what life would be like if people – strangers – actively cared about the writing I do. Anyone who ever dreamed of being a novelist has wondered. But this blog isn't my ticket to fame and fortune, and I don't want it to be.

* * *

This week, Fletcher had his four-month checkup. His weight is average for his age, whereas his height is off the charts. Why do parents get excited when they find out their kid is special in some way like this? As if we didn't already know how incredibly special he is?

He was a trooper as he was given more shots and oral medication. The nurse was shocked by Fletcher's strong gag reflex, and I have a love-hate feeling for the hilarious face he made every time she put that medicine in his mouth.

The doctor wants us to take Fletch to the children's hospital to see a skin specialist about his cradle cap and eczema and some funny bumps under his scalp. She also wanted us to apply another special cream, but at a cost of over $100 for one tube I raised my eyebrows at the pharmacist and wheeled my squeaky cart elsewhere. I wonder what kind of bill we'll get for the children's hospital.

Fletcher's next doctor appointment is the day after Thanksgiving. I can't believe the holidays are coming. I can't believe I'm going to blink and Fletcher will be six months old.