I'M GLAD I DON'T HAVE TO DO MATH TO BE FRIENDS WITH GOD

Often times I am convinced that if you were to take an X-ray of my brain there wouldn't be a left side there at all. It would just be a grainy photograph of the colorful right side of a brain, sitting there, proudly. Probably holding balloons of some sort. I’m much better at thinking about knock knock jokes and happy endings.

Ever since I was a little girl I've been awful at thinking logically, scientifically. Quite honestly that pains me. It comes like second nature to sit down and write poem after poem. To make up an entire imaginary universe in my head. To harvest all of the curiosity in me and ask about the story of every human existing right now. Those things are a piece of cake. But ask me to solve a math problem, talk to me about a scientific equation, it'll go in through one ear out through the next. In fact, I'm not entirely convinced it will go into my head at all, I think it just smacks into my forehead and falls to the ground.

Don't get me wrong, intellectual conversation is the way to my heart. If I can sit down and talk to someone about science and math and religion and poetry all mashed up into one delicious chat, you'll never find me happier. Stimulating my brain brings me to life more than most things. But it takes a little more stretching to get the left side of my brain loosened up. Except for when it came to God. 

When it came to God, the left side of my brain straight up got hungry and ate the right. I had myself convinced that God was like school. He was black and white, 123, point A to point B. For the first time in my life, I was thinking logically. I would go, “Okay, Kath. This is like being in class. In order for him to like you, you just have to get straight a's and turn in all of your assignments on time.” (Both of which I'm awful at.) I had myself convinced that in order for Him to call on me I had to show up everyday, sit facing forward in my desk and raise my hand whenever I talked. That concept freaked me out. Sort of in the way math did.

I have always been particularly bad at math. I don't think letters have any business being in a subtraction problem. They're just masquerading as math and it's not fair for us to have to try to figure out their identity crisis for them. That's their problem. My first issue might be that I've never learned well in a classroom setting, my body repels the concept and I go into a different world that doesn't involve reading numbers off of a chalk board. When it came to tests, I would stare at the page, freeze and then that was it. It wasn't even that I was scared of them, I just couldn't look at them without convincing myself I didn't know enough.

That’s what God was like to me. I thought he was some complex equation that I wouldn't be intelligent enough to solve. I'd look at him, really look at him but then I'd freeze and that was it. But it wasn’t. 

God is the furthest thing from black and white. He can’t be simplified or put in the form of an equation. He can’t be put in a box or shrunk down into a concept. He’s ever flowing, colorful, clever, witty, complex. 

He’s like the bizarre imaginary friends we used to have when we were little. It feels funny trying to explain him to people, trying to explain why exactly you believe in him. Because honestly I sound  a little crazy when I do. He is sort of like how I know to say ouch when I stub my toe, I was never taught to say that, one day I just did. God is like stubbing your toe. One day you bump into him and without knowing why, you just know to respond. He is the smart small feeling somewhere within me that reminds me to respond. 

Let’s just say I’m grateful I don’t have to do math anymore in order to be friends with God.