Dear God,
It’s been awhile. I feel like I should start with an introduction, maybe an apology, or perhaps an explanation is in order.
You see, I haven’t called on you in… well, years. And the truth is, I don’t really believe in you. I’m not sure if I do, to be honest. If you are there, it’s kind of pointless to lie about that, I suppose. You know.
I grew up with you, visiting often. I said the words they taught us to say. I guess I believed in you then, but it wasn’t this deep and big belief – it was just sort of expected of me and I usually did what was expected of me. I still do, mostly.
Somewhere along the line, I realized I didn’t really believe. Or maybe more accurately, I just didn’t feel it – didn’t feel your presence, didn’t feel an absence of this missing thing inside of me. I didn’t need you, or maybe you didn’t need me. If you exist.
Most people I know who believe feel your presence, and they feel you fill this need in them. I’m happy they have you for that. I always thought if I had that hole – felt I was missing a piece of a puzzle and you were just the right fit – that I would embrace you. But I never had that, that missing thing.
Now? Well, there’s a hole. I don’t know if it’s a God-shaped hole or not. It may be a midlife crisis shaped hole. Or maybe it’s a hole burned into me by the hormones of peri-menopause. It could be the hole of being unfulfilled in the ways of this physical world – realizing I’m coming up on 50 and I have a big dream that isn’t getting any closer at all, one I always thought would be closer by now. Or perhaps it’s because of that other stuff – the stuff I won’t talk about here, but you know what I mean, ’cause if you are receiving this message then I assume you are able to see into my head and my heart and my spleen and my soul and you know. You know.
It’s kind of nice to think words aren’t necessary, but then again I am overflowing with words. You made me, if you exist, so I guess I kind of blame you. I open my mouth and words just tumble out.
I have a friend who said “If you’re struggling, reach out to him. He’s been known to help others. Maybe he can help you.”
Last night, as I lay in bed drifting off, I did just that. It wasn’t prayer in the way we learned when I was a kid. It was more like a letter from camp. And then it turned into a blog post. And, well, here we are at 4:57 AM and I can’t sleep so I’m writing to you on my blog.
I think I’ve just admitted that I’ve used you for blog-fodder, God. I don’t know if that’s a sin or not. If it is, it’s one of vanity – I’m using you for a self-serving purpose. But sometimes my words here touch others, connect me to them, so maybe not. Maybe it’s a good thing.
See how confusing it all gets in my head, God? I blame you.
I’m not sure what the point of this is. I don’t feel that I’ve a right to ask for anything. I feel grateful for so very much – there is so much good fortune in my life. If you are real, perhaps I should thank you for that. So, thanks.
What I want, if I were to ask for anything, is for peace. You might think I’m a real saint to seek peace for the world, but I’ll confess, God – I’m being selfish. I want peace for myself. Peace of mind. Balance in my life. Acceptance of what is, or a clear path to change it to what I think it should be, could be.
In the meantime, I’ll just keep muddling through. There are moments of great joy – sometimes even days and weeks of it. I appreciate the hell out of those. Maybe that’s poor wording, but you get my point.
I want – need – my balance back in order to find my peace. I don’t mind life being hard. I don’t mind being tired all the time. I accept that I will work until two weeks after I die. I get that I will gain 3 pounds when I glance at a cake. I’m not happy about it, but I get all that. But I need to feel I’m more part of what I’m working for – that it’s half mine, that it needs me in ways beyond the ones that aren’t fulfilling. I need to be connected to it, to share in it equally. I’m missing that.
Now that I put it all down into words, it sounds like the age-old quest of the human race. Peace, acceptance, balance, fulfillment. Maybe it’s a midlife-crisis shaped hole I’m trying to fill after all.
And God? Maybe it wouldn’t be too much to ask for me to find a more efficient way to wrap things up and bring them to a proper conclusion without blathering on and on and on.
Amen.
(See what I did there?)
Linda, I’ve been following you on Twitter for a while, loving and laughing at your tweets! I didn’t even know you had a blog until you mentioned it recently. This is a beautiful post – so honest. Have you ever read Anne Lamott? She wrote Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, among others. It’s a top-shelf book for writers and she has had a rather unconventional and amazingly honest relationship with God/Jesus – great reading! I look forward to reading more of you posts.
I’ve never met God, but I’ve hung out with Jesus a couple of times. If you have 5 daughters and no sons, you have to wonder if God isn’t screwing with you. That’s a lot of girl!!
Try Oakbridge Community Church in Arnold (or someplace similar). I know, I know, we both grew up in the same church … but there are other options out there that really can help with the Peace that you are looking for, among other things. I’ve been going for about 3 years now and it’s totally changed my thoughts on “religion” , God and given me the peace I sought (but didn’t even know I was seeking – if you can believe that?).
PS – I joined Twitter just to follow you (ok, maybe to keep up with my kids too) so keep up the writing – you truly are gifted 🙂