Dear Pony,

I call you Peanut.  Or My Little Bunny.  Because you are both those things.  A little peanut and a little bunny.

At school they tell me that you are the first to want to paint or draw and that you love to water the garden everyday.  And that you are very good at it.  You sound like your Grandma Jill.  All she likes to do is paint and garden.  Maybe there is something to these genes?

Today we took an art class together with Ms. Molly in Atwater Village.  It was really special. I loved Ms. Molly with her bright red hair and colorful clothes.  I loved the art projects we did, the songs we sang, and the stories she told.  I think I might have enjoyed it as much as you.  My only criticism was I didn’t get to make any art of my own.  But honestly, that would have been a little weird of me.  Something I noticed though was how patient you were waiting for the art supplies or listening to the story, when I knew how desperately you wanted to get up and grab the little Waldorf gnomes and play with them.  You sat silently on my lap with wide open eyes and listened, you really listened.  I hope, if there is one gift I could give you, it would be the ability to stop, be still, and listen…to the story, the beauty, or the quiet little voice of your own divine intuition.  

I really hope that I can help you have a relationship to God in a way that makes sense for you.  I haven’t found a way that makes sense for me, completely, yet…but I am working on it.  I have been told I am a seeker.  This is true.  An insatiable one, it seems.  Of what I am seeking, not sure yet.  Some connection and relationship I know is possible that can bring some freedom and peace.  I have a very worried and anxious soul.  It hurts me most of the time.  I look for ways to soothe it, some are better than others.  If I can help guide you to some inner resource that will tame the raging waters in your head or heart I will do it.  I promise I will.

As of today, I am contemplating Jesus. Wondering whether he was a real man or not, and if so, was he really the son of God, and if so, what the heck does that even mean?  To me?  Today? In this world?  I understand more than ever the purpose of Jesus in people’s lives.  That he is a warm embodiment of something so conceptual it can be cold and frightening.  I think it seems much easier to give my life and will over to a loving being with a human face than this bigger than life thing we call God.  Jesus is more personable.  He looks like one of us.  Well, some of us.  And he said some really powerful beautiful things.  Maybe falling in love with him can help melt this ice around my heart?  There is a glass casing around my heart presently that keeps me from feeling true joy in my life and leaves me with only anxiety and despair.   Morbid thoughts.  Too much seriousness.  I can’t find my sense of humor. I thought it would come back by now.  But it’s still stuck on the birthing room floor.  Fear.  Intense fear from the day you were born.  I am willing to go to any lengths today for this Fear to go away.  It is killing me, slowly.  So seek I will.  

And who knows.  I love Anne Lamott. She’s m favorite author.  And she’s sober. And she’s a Christian.  And I still love her. 

I love you Peanut. 

You are my little Bunny and where ever you go, I will be there.

Love,

Mom