Darn Purple Bracelets

We decided, at my church, to experiment with this "A Complaint Free World" bracelet thingamabob. You know, it was on the Today show (and doesn't everyone read that?) - where you try to go 21 days without complaining. Every time you complain, you switch your bracelet to the other hand, as a manual action of saying, oh, hell, I complained again. Seriously IMPOSSIBLE (and after this blog entry, I am going to have to switch it again, I am sure). Craziness, really. But in solidarity with my parishioners, I am going to go through with it. Who knows...maybe I will actually make it a WHOLE DAY without complaining, though I doubt it.

I preached about this last Sunday. On Saturday, I woke up, went about my day in my usual crabbiness, never bothering to even put the darn bracelet on. Only when I went to switch it, did I notice that - oh, it's not there. Hmm...it didn't even hit me to put it on. That's when I realized I was inherently lazy. And not just about Lent or this discipline, but in general. Lazy about my prayer life. Lazy about even THINKING about HAVING a prayer life. Lazy, lazy, lazy. Well, tired, tired, tired, maybe. The baby still isn't sleeping regularly.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I have completely lost my relationship with most everything. I knew that having a child would change things - maybe even everything - but I didn't really realize just how MUCH it changes things. I feel like I have so very little time to focus on one thing. Last night I began reading Romans (because it is my favorite), but this time in the Message traslation. And I seriously had to read each sentence three times before I could settle myself down enough to comprehend the words that I was reading three times. No wonder I watch so much TV. It doesn't matter how much you pay attention. When I finally settled down enough to take in two chapters of Romans, I started to feel guilty. Never in my life have I felt guilty when reading Romans. I have always felt uplifted - confirmed - stronger in my faith. But last night, I felt guilty - like a hopeless sinner - like a Roman, who, while Paul loves me and longs to be with me, he has a few choice words for me about my behaviour as of late. And that's when I realized my relationship with God has changed SO much, that I can't even find it or recognize it. I don't even know if I have one. We don't talk any more. I certainly don't listen any more and I avoid any kind of intimacy that might be had. (Doesn't it sound like most marriages after the baby joins the fun?) Every once in a while I find myself singing Taize chants for the baby when rocking him to sleep. Only then, do I feel a little connection, a little peace, a little less awful for being so distant. But it is brief.

I don't know what I'll do. Who knows. Things change, things get better, things get worse. Maybe these forty odd days - complaint-free or not - will facilitate a road back. Maybe not. But it can't hurt trying.