Spirit, spring, and other assorted stuff

I have this tattoo on the thumb of my left hand. It's an icthus, the little fish symbol used in Christianity. I got it a few years ago, and half the time I actually forget it's there. So today I was at this awards breakfast thingee, sitting next to a colleague who's known for being pretty open about his spirituality (and fairly conservative ideology). And I'm plowing into my lemon-poppyseed muffin (Six WW points, can you believe that crap?) and he notices the tattoo and starts chatting me up about its meaning. "Wow," he says, "You're a pretty spiritual person! I never had any idea." He seemed fairly astounded. I guess I'm known for many things around here--my politics, my passion for diversity, my impatience, and my pessimism, of course. But not my spiritual life. There are some (maybe even my breakfast buddy) who would probably argue that my politics contradict my beliefs--let's face it, I'm a Christian who isn't afraid to talk about God, but I also support gay marriage, Planned Parenthood, and the separation of church and state. I'm all for women in the clergy. I think the new Pope's dedication to conserving the sacred and ancient (and outdated) ideology of The Church is a bum deal. I don't think abortion should be criminalized. And, oh yeah...I vote Democrat! So I can see how I don't exactly fit the mold. To be honest, I'm perfectly okay with that. What bothers me, and what my friend made me starting thinking about, is that I think I've separated myself more and more from the spiritual part of my life since I came up here. I don't focus nearly enough on being at peace with myself, with what God has planned for me, with my shortcomings and strengths and challenges. I've always had trouble keeping my spiritual focus, but I used to have chapel every Sunday night, when I'd reconnect, and sing, and never feel judged. I haven't found that place up here yet. And I feel like I'm constantly fighting the forces greater than myself instead of letting them be, and accepting my total lack of control over every aspect of every minute of my life. I am a pretty spiritual person. At least I was. As my family continues to face the biggest challenge of our lives--watching one of us whither away because of a terrible disease called ALS--I desperately need to reconnect to that great life force, what I call God, and understand that I don't have to fight him anymore. That I'm better off sinking into the uncertainty and finding happiness in each day, instead of holding out for my whole world to be fixed and perfect.

So it's a gloomy day, cold and rainy and generally gross. Spring has left the building, and I don't know where the hell it went. I'd give anything for five days at a condo on Port Aransas, Jack Johnson on the stereo, and an Absolut screwdriver. And boy, am I feeling out of it. A two-hour conversation with The Boy on Monday night has me reeling with uncertainty, anxiety, hope...Do people really change? Have I really changed? Is it possible to move beyond so many mistakes, to have a new beginning? It's hard to focus on the pile of paperwork on my desk when I've got all of these Big Questions on my mind. I can't wait for Saturday, when I can let my mind wander. And sleep in. And shop (payday tommorow!) Although it will be hard to check out the strappy sandals and skirts when I just had to break all of my sweaters out again. They keep telling me that when spring and summer REALLY get here, it will be worth all of these miserable winter leftovers. I hope so. I want to get a tan this summer, and check out the hike trails at the park. And sleep in. And relish two long months without a single incident report, one-on-one, judicial hearing, or Hall Council meeting. It can't come soon enough...