Monday, April 2, 2012

My prayers.

I think that prayer is a deeply personal thing--perhaps the most personal thing in this whole entire universe. I've thought about sharing my prayers before; I haven't--at least not completely. I don't ever want to be perceived as the snake oil salesman on the corner selling salvation and prosperity with a smile. Or the woman repeating, "keep the faith" over and over at nauseam. What do I know? I am just a woman. I am not anyone who is different than you or them or anyone.

But, for whatever reason, I feel compelled to share one thing. I don't always tell God the full truth.

When I pray, I often find myself saying the things I think God wants to hear, like: "I trust in your will."

The thing is, I don't always trust in His will. And I know that God knows that. He knows everything and He can read between the lines. He knows when I am lying and He knows when I am just plain pissed off.

If I am to get real down and dirty honest about my relationship with God; the first time I cursed God out, with a verbal spew of the f-word and GD and other colorful language, was when Lily was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I begged him. I raged at him. I told him exactly what to do: save Lily and stop this fucking madness.

It was not even the brain tumor itself that led me to this horrific hissy fit--it was everything before.

When the doctor told me that Lily would be born at 29 weeks, I spent the couple hours preceding her birth praying and praising and begging for my life and Lily's life. And then, I got exactly what I asked for. I truly believed we were saved--we made it through the fire and the plague and we were the chosen people. Lily would thrive and nothing would get in our way.

Apparently, the NICU is not a Get Out of Jail Free Pass. And frankly, that still pisses me off.

I have made my peace with God, because Lily is here and she is beautiful and amazing and I actually cannot imagine my life without that GD brain tumor. It is, what it was and what it was--well, it was horrific and challenging and deeply, deeply strengthening.  I had a good outcome and I accept the path we are on.

But nearly everyday, I hear of a child who was just diagnosed or a child who may have relapsed or another child who died. And then, I get on my knees and pray, starting out:

Dear God, 
I trust in your will. But I don't. I am lying. Or maybe I am not. Fuck, God, seriously? I don't get it. I never will. I love you. And I praise you. And I trust you. But your will--your love of our souls--what about our bodies? I know you did not cause cancer, but tell me, I beg you. Tell me how to stop it. Tell me how to stop another child from suffering. Tell me how to stop another Mother from living with the bone numbing fear that her child will die before her. Tell me. Tell someone. Please

And that it is. The truth. I love God. I love Jesus. I have my faith--because that is what faith is: believing when it makes absolutely no sense to believe and trusting when you have no reason to trust. And I think, despite my disrespectful language and my fist waving prayers, God trusts me too.


  1. <3 I am speechless, because I think a lot of us feel the way you do but are scared to say it. We do need to be real with God because if we aren't he can see right through it anyway.

    1. Thank you for your comment Jennifer. I was nervous about this post. xoxo