Two simple stories:
Several months ago my trusty assistant Jennifer had turned on to Franklin Avenue off the 18th street bridge when a rainstorm hit. This, of course, was the perfect moment to discover her wiper blades had dry rotted during the recent dry spell. Jenn pulled in to the parking lot of the CarQuest store the company had conveniently built for this emergency. She told the sales guy what she needed, and then her phone rang. Her brother, Jason, was calling from Iraq. She apologized to the guy as she took the call and then walked around the store catching up with Jason. Upon finishing the call, Jenn walked back to the front counter to complete her purchase. Turns out the guy had gone out in the rain and installed the new blades on her car. (Any guesses where I go whenever I need something for my car?)
In 1955 I entered the world as the third born of my mother and the first born of my father. Six weeks later my exhausted mom enrolled me in a Southern Baptist Sunday School nursery, which delivered me to the care of a covey of little old ladies who rocked me while singing, “Jesus Loves the Little Children.”
Our initial impressions regarding whom we can trust rarely have much to do with what is genuinely “true.” The discovery that those who’ve cared for us might not be entirely “right” can be very disorienting… disillusioning… sometimes even enraging…
Two questions regarding spirituality:
- Who provided your initial impressions of what is true?
- What have been the implications of your spiritual questioning for these relationships?