Lamott Inkshed

Yesterday afternoon I lay in bed for a while reading Anne Lamott’s book, Plan B- Further Thoughts on Faith, amazed at how someone could both eloquently explain Jesus and use an F bomb so freely in a sentence. I liked her aplomb and the fierce, unapologetically introspective look at her life. It made me wish that I had the pluckiness to drop more cursing in my own writing every now and then; it really seems to get the point across. Not, that our writing is on the same level at all, but I suppose I could up my cursing and see what happens. My favorite section was titled, O Noraht, Noraht and as I read, I realized that often, complete frankness makes me uncomfortable. When she talked about her mother, and her Ahlsheizmers and what a terrible mother she was, I thought, “ugh, I really don’t want to know this” because mothers are not supposed to be terrible. They should always nurture and protect and give inspiration and hope. I know that everyone doesn’t have a mother who does, but no matter where I read it, fact or fiction, it always pains me to think that it’s true. But I realized that even though Anne was disappointed in her mother, she couldn’t help but admire and love her, and when the time came, she couldn’t really say good-bye. Feeling blue, I finally had to put the book down and come downstairs to my own little slice of heaven and be glad for my own dear family and the fact that at present, none of us were bitter or angry or facing horrible disappointments in each other. The story reminded me that each time I think that I understand God and how he moves on this earth; I am shown a new facet to his love. The things  I consider terrible and unfair that I have experienced would pale in comparison to parts of Anne’s life, yet she has found joy and peace where she is, just as I have. My quest for acceptance and my desire to know my place in life is no less valid than a former addict because I have not been in recovery. We all need to know where we are headed and it seems that no one has an easy road to get there. I felt thankful that God chooses to repair things that are broken and shower love on the unworthy and forsaken, for if he didn’t, I’m certain that I would be in trouble. In my moment of sweet revelation, the faces of my loved ones seemed brighter and dearer to me, and I watched from the back deck as my daughter shimmied up her rope swing, her face almost ethereal. Laters.