133. Past
My Family
Mom
The mantle
Sometimes moms put a mantle on a son. When I was 14 my mom threw at me “is there a God?” I don’t remember what I answered. Later, I'm not sure how much later, an hour, a day, a week or a month, I gave her a different answer. She then looked exasperated and upset.
“But first you told me something different,” were her words. This, along with some other signals, made a questioner out of me, a seeker, and one who had to figure out if there was a God or not. In a way, a design was laid out for me, good or bad, and I had to solve it. I was given the mantle. For the sake of my mom, and for my sake, I had to find the answer.
One can always say I am reading into this, giving it more importance than is due. Maybe I'm just fishing for self-justification. Then again, maybe it was this mantle that set my course, even unbeknown to me. Yes, it most probably was. These early questions and impressions code us in mysterious ways.
My Family
Mom
The mantle
Sometimes moms put a mantle on a son. When I was 14 my mom threw at me “is there a God?” I don’t remember what I answered. Later, I'm not sure how much later, an hour, a day, a week or a month, I gave her a different answer. She then looked exasperated and upset.
“But first you told me something different,” were her words. This, along with some other signals, made a questioner out of me, a seeker, and one who had to figure out if there was a God or not. In a way, a design was laid out for me, good or bad, and I had to solve it. I was given the mantle. For the sake of my mom, and for my sake, I had to find the answer.
One can always say I am reading into this, giving it more importance than is due. Maybe I'm just fishing for self-justification. Then again, maybe it was this mantle that set my course, even unbeknown to me. Yes, it most probably was. These early questions and impressions code us in mysterious ways.
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