Parenthood really forces a long, hard look in the mirror. And most of the time it's in fluorescent lighting or at least one of those mirrors at Old Navy...they always make me look lumpy. The point is, nothing escapes. Parenthood is an assessment of what's there and more importantly, what's missing. For me, religion has always been one of those things that I kept in the recesses of my brain. An abyss of questions to which there may not be answers. Not something this concrete thinker likes to grapple with. For that I would need weeks, months, years to ponder and meditate on what God and religion mean to me and frankly I've been too busy. In a nutshell, I guess I don't do well with unknowns. I remember waking up on Sunday mornings and tiptoeing around the house, praying my mom would sleep in so that we wouldn't have to attend Sunday school. I guess I never really understood how the arc and the whale, the persecution and the fish all applied to my nine year old self. To make matters worse, I grew up and began my career working with pediatric cancer patients. Hello, God? Anyone there? Then I started watching historical documentaries on the evolution of Christianity, biographies of Jesus. Although fascinating, any stores of faith that I had were completely depleted. My Sunday morning God was bacon and eggs at Louie's Grill. But in 2007 I got pregnant. And there began the subtle stirrings of these tucked away thoughts on God. Ella was born and baptised. Then Viv was born and baptised. We have a welcoming neighborhood church and a priest that knows our names. But I want more. I want to be able to let go of all the ugliness that I think religions can represent at times. I want to experience moments that "bewilder the intellect yet utterly quiet the heart" (G K Chesteron). I am looking to fill a void. I used to harbor feelings of pity for people steeped in their religions. Didn't they watch the history channel? But the more I observe, many of these folks are truly happy. Now don't expect me to start talking in tongues or hitting you up for donations for my new found religion, Church of Ready Whip. I won't be joining Tom, Katie and the Travoltas at their next Scientolgoy luncheon. I need a God that will accept my doubts and my imperfections. Does that sound too self-centered, too Gen X? Hey burning at the stake is so 16th century...I can custom fit my religion can't I? But I am actively and quietly seeking...and according to Rumi, "what I seek is seeking me". So who knows, maybe we'll meet.