Skip to main content

me too



I used to never question God.
It was just part of the way things were.
Just like I believed in Santa and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny.

And eventually I grew up and started to wonder.
I always believed,
But occasionally I started to wonder if he was always good.
If he really loved me.
Singular me rather than an all inclusive version.
That he was paying attention.
That my prayers mattered.`

And I didn’t know that I should play by the rules.
That questioning these outloud things in a Bible study or Sunday School class
Will get you bumped to the top of the prayer list.
Because I know.
But sometimes I wonder.
And I didn’t need their scripture memory verses or their books or their prayers.
(but I guess prayers never hurt)
And I was just hoping for someone else to say
“me too”.

And, Jason Boyett’s book, O Me of Little Faith
Is one great big “me too”
And like most books I like he asks a whole lot more questions than he answers.
Hard ones.
Ones without real answers.
Ones that make me want to ask even more questions.
And he is funny, has an entire chapter on Dr. Sues and talks about West Texas a lot…which are all added bonuses in my world.

I will warn you.
This has been a particularly trying week for me.
And maybe reading a book on doubt didn’t help.
Maybe I should have been carrying around a copy of “chicken soup for the
________________ “ (you fill in the blank, because there is a chicken soup for everything these days).
But I think I’d rather do a little “wrestling” than waste my time with fluff.
Even if it is hard.
Even if I don’t ever get around to finding the answers.

Want my copy (which was so kindly provided by the publisher in return for my review)?
Leave a comment and I’ll have my random generator ( uhm, asking the hubs across the couch to pick a # between 1-?) on Wednesday. He might read it first….so you’ll have to wait a week or two for me to get in the mail.

And feel to check out these links:
buy your own copy on Amazon
check out Jason's website
and the other bloggers on the tour.

And you should also know that I desperately wanted to take a picture of Owen just like the cover of the book. I chased him around the front lawn with the Nikon and a box of bandaids asking him to take off his shirt and show me his muscles. I think the neighbors might have called CPS. And no, he never posed.

Comments

choral_composer said…
sounds like an awesome book. I'd be interested in reading it and reviewing it on my blog
Margie said…
Since I'm the second to comment, does this mean I don't get a shot at it? Sounds like my kind of book, too...
samskat said…
YES. me too....

Popular posts from this blog

Either/Or

Recently I met an old friend for lunch. He was actually my senior high prom date. He wasn’t just my prom date, but had been my friend for a good part of high school. And our group has mostly stayed in touch through the years. But not him. Even though we live in the same big metroplex, I hadn’t seen him in almost 15 years. At prom, He even won some kind of senior superlative, Mr. BHS or something like that. In other words, he was well-liked, nice, funny and smart. And it helped that he drove a Camero. We didn’t break up or have a falling out. He kind of just disappeared. And not just from me, but from everyone. And I had looked for him. At class reunions. On myspace. And eventually, only about a year ago, he finally showed up on facebook. When he did, I suggested we get together for dinner or something. And he responded with a really awkward email. Explaining that he was gay. Warning me. Trying to let me out of my dinner invitation if I wanted. And I already knew this. Possibly I had ev...

imaginary friends

Recently I had a friend disappoint me. I didn’t tell them. And I didn’t write about it when it happened. Instead I seethed a little and got angrier and slightly resentful and finally dumped it on my husband. (who had some great advice that will come later) And. I have hesitated to write this piece because a lot of my real life friends read this. Maybe even the one I’m writing about. Maybe not. Actually I’m not really sure. And to be honest the best pace to work this out would be with them. Just them. And not on line. But. It’s not really about them. It’s more about me. And I don’t think there is so much to work out anyways. So, if you are my real life friend and are reading this and wondering, hesitantly or fearfully if this is about you. It might be. But it probably isn’t. And again. Even if it is. It’s not REALLY about you. And if it isn’t. It could be. If we have been friends for more than five minutes, we have probably had a moment like this. So, back to me venting to my husband. ...