I Believe in God. I Believe in his Son, Jesus. I believe He came to save me, and I feel like I’ve been working pretty diligently at trying to figure out what I am here for and how I can help others.
And yet, I am a Hot Mess.
Despite prayer, burying myself in Christian podcasts, trying to go to Church and dragging my family with me, I’ve yet to figure out what peace feels like. By 8:01 a.m. after getting the kids off to school, and sometimes sooner, I’ve already wanted to strangle my children, have probably cussed (ok, definitely have cussed), and have questioned my purpose on earth at least 3 times – not to mention my worthiness to walk the planet or to be a mother.
I get back down on my knees and pray again (or just sit on the toilet and want to weep.)
I’m a tough case. I started at an early age as a picker-of-locks and a fairly good thief. I lied about everything, even when I didn’t want to lie. I was a miserable kid, felt like I never measured up or fit in, and it set the tone for much of my early adult life. My coping style was to try and fake being like everyone else, becoming a mimic to try and fit in.
It left me empty. It left me angry. I was angry at God. I blamed Him for making me different and so utterly unprepared to be happy or to succeed in this world. Maybe I’m still blaming Him or resenting Him for my struggles even when I know better.
Dear God. I want to love You. I want You in my life. I know my life has gotten immeasurably better since you came into it: that I am still sitting here today is a testament to that. If I harbor hatred or resentment, I ask you to remove it. Help me.
And if you can send some Angels over my house to help protect and keep the rotten out, and maybe help me remain sane for one more day, that would be very much appreciated.
I went to the adoration chapel this evening while my children were in religious Ed – expecting I don’t know what but wanting to be physically in the face of God.
I had a vision of sorts of my open – soul? I don’t know – just envisioned a giant hole in my chest full of puss, and ooze and poison and darkness. All the Nasty thoughts and wrong beliefs and hates and fears draining out.
All the sin and all the goop that keeps me from Jesus.
Whether it was a vision or a picture brought forth from my imagining I believe, Jesus, you brought your Holy Spirit in to cleanse the wound because I asked for it. Underneath the debris and crust lies my God-shaped hole.
Please Lord, cleanse me, purify me, and make me whole with your love. Repair my heart and change my mind in anyway necessary that will help me to serve you.
I’ve been struggling in the middle of….nothing. You’ve blessed me tremendously: we have a beautiful new house, my children are happily ensconced in their new school, work is steady if not-very-exciting, and I am pursuing you daily. I’m triple-dipping into my Catholic Faith and augmenting with Rick Warren and Joel Osteen, and doing everything I can to figure out what are calling me to do.
I believe You ARE calling me. But I feel so alone. I don’t have anyone on this journey with me but my podcasts and the occasional input of my overly-busy best friend, and I feel like I’m childishly waiting for the thunderbolt of inspiration to hit. What do YOU want me to do?
To You be the Honor, to YOU be the Glory, and I know you have a path for me:
“I know what I am planning for you,” says the Lord. “I have good plans for you, not plans to hurt you. I will give you hope and a good future.” Jeremiah 29:11 NCV
Please Lord, I am 44. Let me know soon, give me a sign, make it very evident. I love you, and I want to spread your word to help others and to change the world. Show me how.