Dear God,

Hey there, it’s me, Jodi. So listen, I was thinking about predestination today while I was trying (for the 3rd time in a row) to make gluten free pasta from scratch.

You see how these go together, don’t you? I thought so. Because I was getting a little anxious. I was bothered that the tutorial online was not real life in my kitchen and I had to throw away a total of 6 cups of GF flour, which is like saying PLEASE TAKE ALL MY MONEY in 172 size typeface, probably Verdana, out loud and face up in my garbage can.

Working with my hands (as you know, it’s so silly to explain this all to you because you KNOW.) is mental therapy for me. I do my best thinking through conversations I want or need to have while busying my hands. Poetry often comes to me as I’m cooking or baking, idly thrifting down rows and rows of glassware while my mind wonders and works it all out. But I can’t explain why predestination came up. I think because I was originally working out a way to write this post with some humor in it and then I somehow found a way to joke about a parallel with predestination and my inability to give a shit.

I’m going to go ahead and ask for forgiveness for my foul mouth now. If you could look the other way while I use a few four letter words once in a while, it’s just … why would those words exist if I wasn’t supposed to try them on for size?

Oh and then! THEN. Freewill. I can’t really say I’m a very religious person because religion in general makes me want to throw things at the wall. It’s all very “thumbs down” and “rules” and “because I said so” and the God I know, the one I’ve learned about, the one I have a relationship with (Hi, it’s you.) is more interested in my heart than my little black book of “THINGS I DID RIGHT” and “RULES I FOLLOWED WELL”.

I’m working this out because I think I’m supposed to explain a few things once in a while. Like over coffee or in a letter.

But anyway, what was I saying? I can’t remember but I think the pasta mishap somehow taught me that it just doesn’t matter. The gluten content of my child’s food = totally matters, I’m jumping ship and weaving a metaphor – stay with me. My thoughts or theology on big ticket items in the church like predestination and whether we’re cool with pork or not just doesn’t matter. The old testament God of tradition and covenant broke those chains and laws when the new testament resurrection took place. (I just spoke churchese, apologies friends.) I don’t know, I’m really bothered by legalism. By the complete lack of confidence we seem to have somedays in our literal freedom.

It’s just not that hard. The real hurdle seems to be believing in You at all, not subscribing to your constitution.

I hope I didn’t completely screw that up, it made sense in my head with egg yolks and flour stuck to my fingers.

If I did though, let’s pretend I never wrote this.



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