This is me–exploring faith and doubt, exploring exploring and writing, exploring life and the wicked, wide, wonderful world we inhabit, poking at God with a dull stick, being poked back.

Jesus loves me.  I love Him back, more or less.  I’ve never really felt like I was any good at it, but then sometimes the awe and beauty overcome me.  Maybe it’s just fascination.  Maybe it’s just spiritual lust.  Idunno.  I’m not sure I’m any good at loving anything.

I’m aging.  It’s what humans do.  But I still sometimes feel like I should be a teenager and I wonder if–amidst everything that’s so so wrong about that–there isn’t some virtue in feeling younger than I’m supposed to be.

I have an amazing, beautiful, talented and truly righteous (in a good way) daughter.  Her name is Christine.  She blogs better than I.

I used to have an amazing, beautiful, talented and truly righteous (in a good way) wife.  She died.  If we’re being honest (and I prefer that we be), I’m still a little messed up about that, not sure that I like God in the midst of losing her, not sure what sense to make of life.

That being said, I probably have a far better life than I deserve (that it was even better while she was here suggests that I deserved that life even less and so shouldn’t be bitter about losing it).  I have awesome friends and a great family.  I’m still pretty sure that God loves me; I don’t really understand Her, but we’re working on that.