If God was a Frying Pan

I was born in a town I have never been to and will never go to, in a country where I am now considered to be an alien. What got me to where I am in the world? That's what's been on my mind lately. What got me here, and what keeps me here?

When my husband was a child, his dad asked him what he thought God was. With complete conviction and without much hesitation, he answered, 'God is a frying pan'. I always thought this was such a wise, philisophical conception, especially coming from such a little boy.

Have you ever asked yourself what God is? I haven't. I consider myself an agnostic; I would like to believe in God but I just can't be fully convinced. There's the whole Darwin thing - I can't help it, when Bram climbs onto my lap or when I lift him up and I feel him cling onto me, he resembles a chimp in the most uncanny way. That we're related to monkeys is, to me, undeniable.

But I think would like it if God was a frying pan, if God had a handle I could literally hold on to and throw a couple of eggs into and fry them up. What if everything that was abstract suddenly became tangible? Emotions, hunger, peace, nationality?

You might be thinking: nationality is tangible, in the form of a passport. I can't say I agree. I am Dutch, and I am American, but I am also neither. I have a piece of paper that says I was born in the U.S, but I also have a piece of paper that says I am not a U.S. citizen. I have a piece of paper that says I am a Dutch citizen, but I don't have a drop of Dutch blood in my body. Paper says nothing.

My parents, who were both born and raised in Chicago, moved in, out and around the United States as soon as they got married in the late 60's. One of my brothers was born in Sweden, the other in California, and I was born in New York. Sometimes I think it's kind of cool, other times I find it down right ridiculous. I mean, do you know anyone who wasn't even born in the same time zone as their siblings? Me neither.

My parents paved their own road, built their own furniture by recycling and re-using, way before it was popular to do so. They were pilgrims, explorers, nomads. They still are. I have yet to see my parents settle down in one place for longer than a decennium before the itch to move on sets in. What is that itch? And more importantly, do I have it too? Can a nomadic way of life be actually passed down genetically?

It takes a lifetime to understand a lifetime, perhaps. Each day is meant to learn more about oneself. What defines a person, anyway? Heritage, career, DNA? Upbringing, experiences, culture? All of these things? None of them? Do others define you, or do you define yourself? Can someone say you are a frying pan, or are you actually one?

Is God a frying pan because I would like Him to be? Am I American because my parents want me to be? Am I an invalid because society has placed me in that category? An individual is not defined by its whereabouts or its shortcomings, but by its content. I am the product of my experiences, not just my roots or my upbringing. Individuality can be any time, any place, anywhere.

It's still tough to be me, though. Sometimes I wish I was a frying pan so others could grasp me. But nothing, not another human being, or a piece of paper, nothing can define who I am except me.