Wednesday, March 3, 2010

The Phone Call That Won't Get Answered

Yesterday I was looking through my phone contact list. Scrolling down through each letter I got to "M"...M for Mom. There I saw my Mother's phone number, both home and cell. My mother has been passed away now for almost two years this April. Two years since I have heard from her and two years since I called. I saw her cell number there and, don't asked me what possessed me, I called. What did I think would happen? Perhaps I was thinking that one of my reoccurring dreams, the ones where my mother calls me, would come true. Maybe, maybe I thought she would answer or at the very least, I would hear her voice on the voice mail. Don't know, guess I just wasn't thinking. The phone rang and rang and then finally that woman, that same woman whose voice fills in for all the people who do not provide a voice mail message of their own answered my hopeless call, "At the tone please leave a message for ***-***-****".

I hate that woman.

Needless to say I simply hung up the phone and went about my business.

This morning though was quite another story. As I was getting ready for work the radio was tuned into the local country station providing just the right soundtrack for heartbreak. A sad song of missing one who has crossed over came on and I looked over at the picture of my mother on my nightstand. That was when the plug was finally yanked from the floodgates of my heart and my tears began to flow like an overflowing river. I cried bitter tears, similar tears if not the same that I cried when she first left. Tears that I began to think would not ever stop. My daughter finally came in and asked what happened. I was leaning over the bed sobbing and I tried to compose myself. I spoke to myself sternly saying, "I have got to get to work after all, I have things to do. There was no time to mourn now." I calmed myself and stammered my explanation to my daughter and assured her I would be fine.


On the way to work, I offered to do a coffee run. On route I began to feel all the loneliness of an orphaned child. All my feeling of having lost two mothers, one at the age of 5 months and one at the age of 41, the feelings of loneliness and disconnectedness within my religious community, and the loneliness of living one hour from my sisters. All the loneliness that exists even in my mind where I am caught in my perceived uniqueness. And the intensity and hollowness of the loneliness of no longer being a Believer.

"Where the HELL is G-d in all of this?!" I scream to myself.

I decided two years ago I was done with G-d. Done with him and his anger, done with the hate and confusion, done with his judgment and punishment, done with his lack of voice. Done!

Of late I have searched for G-ddess. I need a mother so badly. So I screamed at the G-d I no longer want anything to do with and cried out to G-ddess. "Are YOU there?? Can YOU hear me?? Do YOU love me??" I cried out to her, pulled into a parking spot and wept some more.

"Please reveal yourself to me!"

I feel very much like a lost child sometimes and today is one of those days to say the least. As much as I want to live the life of an atheist, albeit orthopraxic in my Judaism, the best I can do is be agnostic. I don't know if any deity exists out there, but I want to believe. But the one who I want and choose to believe in is Her, G-ddess and Mother of All. G-d has gone the way of my father, a being who never really was there and when he was, he was nothing but abusive and cruel. A being who I could never please and could never love me back. Someone who demanded perfection and was sure to mete punishment swift and harsh when perfection was surely unattained.

G-ddess, on the other hand, I believe is like my mother. She loved me in spite and because of myself. She allowed me the freedom to do and pursue my paths, even if she disagreed with me. She warned me of danger but knew I would ultimately make my own decision. She expected me to be and do my best, to act like a grown up and she did not baby me. Don't misunderstand, when compassion and understanding were needed, it was there, but not an infantile coddling. No, more of an "I hear you baby, but you can do this."

Most importantly, through it all, she loved me.

She loved me, even though I did not have the privilege of abiding nine months in her womb and passing through her birth canal. She loved me enough to fight for me. She loved me enough to take me with her when we escaped from my father. She loved me enough to make me officially hers in a court of law. She loved me even though I made the most asinine choices in my 20's and 30's. She loved me enough to tell me she sometimes felt as though she failed as a mother. I held her and said, "No way Mommy! Just the opposite! You were the absolute best mother ever!"

This love, this affection, this devotion, this is my G-ddess.

My hope is in Her. My faith and devotion is to Her. And my prayer, my prayer is to Her as I anxiously wait for Her to answer the phone.