Family

Some people paint paintings, some people throw clay. Some people write music and some write books. Everyone has an art. Mine is metaphor. I have a deep appreciation for metaphors and occasionally come up with my own that are interesting. I don’t usually have great words to explain them with (such as in a poem or something) but the ideas are still there and are occasionally profound. I say that metaphor is my art, not so much because I am good at seeing or coming up with them, but I’m good at appreciating them. Being a parent has opened my eyes to new metaphors. One being the way we relate to our parents and the way we relate to God. This is an old metaphor, I know, but I’m seeing it with new eyes (and not even necessarily because I’m a new parent…just because I’ve been thinking about it a lot). Anyway, I was thinking the other day about my parents and parents in general. Thinking about my teenage years in particular. You know, the time when almost no one likes their parents (or at least won’t admit to it). I especially had trouble with my parents—anyone who knew me then could attest to that. But it truly didn’t matter how much my parents put me through (or I them). When it comes down to it, if I was really in a bind there’s no one I would rather turn to than them. Even when 99% of the time I felt like they didn’t have my back, they would still be the first people I went to when I really needed something. Unfortunately, our biological parents are imperfect and running to them when you really, truly need something doesn’t always end how we would want it to (as I learned many times). But the bond is still the same. And I think about God and how many rough times I’ve had with him. How many times I’ve been angry, doubted his goodness, and felt completely abandoned by him. But it’s in my DNA to run to him when I am truly desperate. I don’t think I’m the only one who does this either. People who don’t consider themselves all that religious will still call on God when they really need something. We relate to God in a way that is very similar to how we relate to our parents. I think that’s why God put us into families. It shows us—and not in a third-party observational way, but in a real-life, all-the-chips-are-down sort of way—that we are loved deeply. There is a bond within families that is deeper than a deep friendship. Friendships can often simulate families, but it can never be the same. I am connected to my family in the most profound, mysterious way I can imagine. I am connected to God in the most profound, mysterious way I can imagine. And my understanding of my connection with God doesn’t even scratch the surface of how tight that bond truly is. My understanding (gained through my experiences with my family) is just a shadow of the real thing.