I wrote this ONE WEEK before we lost Jordan….
I wish I could tell you this happy go lucky, awesome faith filled story of how Jesus got me through my miscarriages. But the truth is, I’m still in my valley, and God still feels really far away. Like a distant cousin who has forgotten I exist. I know deep down this is NOT the TRUTH… but that’s how it feels. I feel abandoned, I feel downtrodden, I feel utterly hopeless. And the thing is… that’s okay. The Bible is full of stories of people who have yelled out to God asking where the f#*! He is and why he’s left them to rot and die… not that I’ve been reading the Bible lately, because to be honest it makes me pretty mad sometimes (but that’s a whole other post for another day.. if I ever get around to it).
My faith has taken a hit, and as a result it’s taken the back burner. I’ve been walking around an empty corpse, waiting to be revived but not wanting to do any of the work. Because to be honest, where did the “work” get me… It got me to four dead babies.
I want the relationship without the work.
Read your Bible every day.
Pray every night before you go to bed.
Go to church every Sunday.
Give your money to the church.
Basically sign your life away and ignore the hypocrisy around you.
But I’ve become a hypocrite among them.
I’m full of anger, bitterness and donuts.
I feel like a schizophrenic “Christian”. Wanting to rid myself of the label and desperately wanting a touch from Jesus.
I had this dream once that I was sitting in a boat in the calmest waters I have ever seen, have ever felt, have ever touched. It was this beautiful moment of just me and the water. It sparkled in the light. It was all around me. And in that moment, I knew Jesus was there. I want to go back to that place. I want to be there in that moment again. I wish I could just close my eyes and be there.
Rid myself of the anger. Rid myself of the pride.
Cast off the bitterness, the hurt, the fear.
Drop the hypocrisy.
I long for that freedom and joy; the peace.
I long for Jesus. Only Jesus.