"Where I Live, 

It's All Dishes & Gratitude"

from Winter 2010

Where I live, we don't have God.

Well. Of course, we do.

But we call it Laughter.

We call it Laughter.

We call it Inside Jokes,

We call it Secret Knowing Smiles and Quiet Giggles.

We call it Talking Over Each Other and Laughing Til Our Sides Hurt;

We call it Rambunctious-Loud-American-Side-Splitting Chuckling, 

Can't-Finish-the-Sentence Hysterics, Roarin'-Hootin'-Howlin'-Across-the-Valley-

Pants-Peein' Yuckerin.

And we call It,

We call It,

We call It.

Where I live, God comes to us in this way,

We touch God with our insides this way.

(Have you ever touched God with your insides?)

And when the snot's coming out of my nose and the tears are streaming down my face and the breathless, involuntary vocalizations of my own delight are spewing forth from my earthly bag of skin - 

I know God.

I AM God.

I thank God.

Where I live, we know God through our Tears, and through our Struggle. 

And we know It when we look into each other's eyes.

When we look, and we know, and we

Fear it's not enough, and we

Worry they'll call the lawyers, and we

Hate that we've been "proven irresponsible."

We really hate that one.

But we feel it - in the knowing Glances,

In the side swiped Looks

In the Pat on the back at the cold ATM machine,

In the metaphysical Hand-holding at the post office,

In the AMAPFALAP that inspires us all, that we have chosen.

We hold each other up - literally.

And we know - that we have found God. 

Where I live - This is what we have:

We don't have heat - we have warmth.

We've given up comforts for comfort.

Riches for wealth.

Objects for each other.

Where I live, we have each other.

We live here for each other.

We come & go & stay for each other.

'Round these parts, 'bout

The only things we have are 

Countless meetings and endless hugs,

Heaps of dishes and bottomless gratitude.

It's the kind of place where you can cry at lunch -  

Could you ask for anything more?

I know you don't understand.

It's ok, you don't have to.

God doesn't always have to be so pretty, you know.

You can't just simply trap him on a table and call it an altar,

Or in your exclusive building and call it a church.

Or, you could I guess.

People do strange things all the time.

But I can't believe it.

I can't believe you the same way you can't believe me 

When I tell you:

God is in our chicken.

Yes, our Chicken is god.

If you don't believe me, you should see the way She stares at the earth, 

The way She meanders so perfectly,

The way She accepts whatever She's given,

The way She's the same whether Her feathers are clean or dirty,

Whether it's raining or not,

Whether She's in the dog's mouth or walking about.

The way she poops in the middle of our floor, as if 

Poop is the same as Not-poop.

Or maybe she's just trying to Humble us; teach us a lesson.

She's Zen; She's God.

It still doesn't mean we might not kill Her and eat Her one day - 

They killed your God, too, you know.

Where I live, God comes to us in many ways.

And you can feel it:

In pain, in cold, 

In hunger, in inconvenience, 

In disagreements, in opinions, in breakups and breakdowns. 

You can feel God running Her course through. 

And in the jokes, 

The smiles, the stories, 

The hugs, the thoughtfulness, 

The moments shared, 

The laughter. 

You can feel God in the Laughter.