God, Church, and Dying Ramblings

First, I grew up in an Atheist home. My parents both grew up in religious families (my mother Jewish and my father Catholic) but early in their marriage they became Atheists.

When H and I started dating, he was a Christian and I, an Atheist, mostly because that is all I knew. H taught me a lot about God, but we didn't ever really go to church together. We took a religious studies class in college and that was the first time I ever went to church. We went to 5 or 6 different services for different religions and it was very interesting. Somewhere between high school and marriage I realized I was more of an Agnostic than an Atheist.

I am not sure what I believe today. Really, its not that important.

5 weeks ago I started going to church. I feel called to go there. I feel like its what I am supposed to be doing, so I load up my 3 kids and off to church we go on Sunday mornings.

I haven't told my parents that I have been going to church. I haven't lied to them, just sort of left it out of conversation. I feel like a 12 year old hiding my boyfriend or something. Ridiculous, I know.

Today, V told them we went to a place with lots of music and talking. I felt like I had to tell them, so I did. They then went on to ask me why I felt like I needed to go to church and asked how I could believe that a good God would let such horrible things happen to me.

Part of me feels like I have to believe in a God. I mean, I believed there was a God before H died, but now, I almost WANT to believe because if there is a God, then there is a heaven and if there is a heaven, then I will get to be with my husband again. I can't imagine never seeing him again. I need to see him again. I need to know that is a possibility.

I also understand their questions. I have those same questions. Why, if God answers prayers, didn't he answer the prayers of all the people praying for H, for our family? Why didn't he work miracles? Why won't my kids get to know their dad? Why is my husband dead? It doesn't make sense.

But I also feel like I have to believe there is a reason that this happened. Maybe that will make it hurt less? Probably not. I just keep wondering what I did and what my kids did to put us here.

Because H died though, I am not afraid of dying anymore. I am still a pretty cautious person, but I have no fear of dying. Its a really strange feeling. I figure, if I die, either I'm dead and gone and nothing, or I get to be with him again.

I just want to be with him again.

Driving home today a guy on a motorcycle pulled in front of me. I was stopped behind him at a light and I just kept thinking about H and how much that guy reminded me of him. He was wearing khaki shorts, a t-shirt, sneakers, and a full face helmet. Just what H wore when he rode on really hot days. This guy was smaller than H and his bike was smaller too, but it just made me hope that he is careful. I don't want his family to suffer the way mine has.

As he drove off, I said a prayer for him.