ZOE'S LETTER

Last week I was doing my thing in the kitchen, cooking dinner, when I noticed my daughter Zoe diligently working on a letter. This wasn’t unusual for Zoe. She’s often camped out in various places with a pad of paper in front of her either writing or drawing. When she finished her work, she put the paper in an envelope and came to me and asked where should she send a letter to God? This gave me brief pause, and while I thought how to answer her question, we talked for a while about speaking to God no matter where you are in all kinds of ways, through our actions, etc. I really thought she was grasping the concept when she asked, “Even on the toilet?”

“Well yeah, even on the toilet,” I responded evenly.

“I just wondered,” she said, “because I was thinking about God while I was on the toilet.” We who know and love her most all recognize Zoe’s innate abilities to take the most serious of subjects and bring them down to base level. But she had a point. I do some of my best thinking while I’m on the toilet. It’s the only time I get a moment alone — occasionally.

After talking about the difficult business of actually posting a letter to God, Zoe decided to send the letter in care of our pastor, Father Chuck, because she figured he had direct dial. I didn’t read the letter. I have no idea what thoughts that envelope contained, but I think it was important to her to share her thoughts to God in a literal sense. And Father Chuck is one of those people who has a way of understanding these things. I imagine he’ll receive the letter and know what to do.

I wonder if in Zoe’s world it’s sort of like sending a letter to Santa Claus; holding that belief the letter will get to the North Pole and to Santa, although you have no hard evidence. I guess that’s what having faith is all about. Keeping a conviction without out any real proof.

I’m glad Zoe’s thinking about God, and maybe in some way recognizing the spiritual side of herself. We’ve talked about “that little voice” inside your head being your conscience — your “right-or-wrong-o-meter,” and how that might in some way be God’s way of speaking to you in a way you might listen. Whether, or not, you follow those or any faith lines, there is a certain comfort in feeling you’re not alone, even when you are most alone.

If I had a “do-over” ticket, I would study religion in college. I am fascinated by the role it plays in our lives, in our history, in our politics. I believe any belief structure is held together by equal parts faith; fiction; fact; and, folklore. I’ve never been able to completely let go of my errant thoughts regarding the dogma of my church, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate the community around the institution; found comfort in the rituals, and, recognize the sense of morality it hopefully instills in my children and myself. So while I still harbor some misgivings, I guess I take my beliefs for better or worse. My kids are pretty independent little thinkers. I’m confident they’ll question their faith at least once in their lives, as I have. And this is a good thing. The Dalai Lama said something to the effect that it is possible (and possibly good) to study many religions, and to take away those tenants that speak to you, without ever officially converting to any one of them. I read that when I had just graduated from college and was influenced in equal parts by Ayn Rand, who was an atheist, and Eastern religious beliefs, primarily Buddhism. I guess it stuck, because I never converted from my confirmed church, but I am continually intrigued by other belief structures.

We have Mormon friends who no matter where in the world they live, are instantly swept into the welcoming arms of their church. I’ve always looked on with regard to their global sense of community. And due maybe in part to his travels as a missionary, our friend Jeremy has never met a stranger. But maybe he was just born that way. In fact, in many ways, I think my husband Rick and Jeremy were brothers separated at birth. One is Mormon. One is Catholic. When we lived near each other our friends would often come over for brunch after services on Sunday morning. Our hour-long service gave us plenty of time to prepare, vs their morning-long obligations. They’re like family to us. I know my kids are curious about their faith. And Jeremy is Godfather to our youngest. Maybe one day she will explore other religions. I hope there are people like Jeremy and his wife Lorien in our lives who are there to help answer their questions about what religion means to them.

Meanwhile, I hope my kids keep talking to God — no matter where they may be at the time they feel the need to converse. And posting letters is okay, too.

End Note: After writing this, I realized there is a movie due out tomorrow titled “Letters to God,” inspired by a young boy who, through his battle with cancer, wrote a series of letters to God. The timing is purely coincidental. I don’t think Zoe knew of the movie when she wrote her letter. When I Googled the movie, I also discovered a website:lettertogod.net. I’m not sure how I feel about God reading his letters along with the rest of the universe over the net but, then again, here I send mine…