I find I have an inability to pray during the times I should be begging for God the most. Somehwere in between the torture my heart is raging at Him. Damning Him? For the Pain that rips through my soul like a freshly sharpened knife.
Let me make one thing clear: I do not cherish this in myself.
In my calmer moments I have great faith in Him. Thank Him, even, for thinking so much of me that he would put me in the honor class of life. And I find comfort in the thought that all that has happened has given me some saintly glimmer, and I'll be able to draw on my memories of despair in whatever great career of life I'm destined to achieve.
But when I'm crumpled on the floor (as I so often am), bent in two with Pain, I do not know this God. I don't know who He is. So I don't pray in those moments. In those moments it would be like begging my stuffed animal for a drink of water. Useless, and slightly insane.
I wait until my heart has put down the knife. And then I let myself get near Him.
About Me
- Nicole
- I am a young college student in New England trying to find my path towards a career in literature. I am also trying to find my path in the maze that is Bipolar depression and mood disorder. I believe that there is something divine in the pain of life, and I have great hope and love for those sufferers.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
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