I lay here tonight, doubting myself and what I am writing and telling all of you. Before all of this, I was a firm, non-believer. Not necessarily an atheist, but a non-believer of the Bible. I believed there was a man named Jesus and that maybe some things happened, but to actually believe all of the stories you here growing up, did not make sense to me. I heard a man on the news tonight, a criminal, speak of how the week after he was arrested, he found Jesus. I thought to myself, is this what I sound like? All of these years, I have doubted Him and I have never believed that someone could have an experience like I did. It is unsettling to me, to say the least. Even when this first started happening, I thought, I believe in God, but still not Jesus Christ as my saviour. So much so that first the first couple of days, I researched a lot of religions, seeking one out that would fit my beliefs. Because there was nothing really of that sort, I even considered starting a new church where people believed like I did. The "realists". Logic is what speaks to me, always has. It seems logical that, because of my need for closure, I've pieced this whole thing together to fit my situation. There are a lot of things that have happened over the last several weeks that are coincedental. Too many to name, in fact. That is the old me thinking. If I were to be reading this about someone I knew, I would think that their story, while tragic, is not about God. It's just the way their brain is processing the loss, even though it's so much later. But to read about how they have found God and Jesus and He has saved their souls, I literally would have closed the screen at that moment. I never, in my wildest dreams, expected that person to be me. My husband and I have talked about going to church for years, but it was always for the kids experience. I thought to myself, I would tolerate it, because, growing up, I did enjoy it so much. We just never found the time. I have a dear friend, who has been my friend for the past 12 years. She is literally the kindest, most caring person I know to exist. Her heart is so golden. She will help any homeless person, to the point that she gets robbed, or volunteer her time to causes and organizations until her plate is completely full. We would see each other a few times a year and we would laugh and carry on when we did. We had a wonderful bond. One night, months after I had lost the twins, my phone rang. My husband was at work, so I was home alone. I answered and it was her. She was telling me how God had called upon her that night to call me and talk with me to find out if I was ok. I had literally been sitting in my chair, crying my eyes out all night, before she called. She told me to yell at God and that it was ok to be mad. After hanging up, I can remember thinking that I loved her very much, but God was not taking care of me. I remember yelling at God as she had told me to do. No one yelled back. There was only silence. I yelled again. Still nothing. I wanted, by some miracle, to hear God's voice in my head telling me He was sorry for what had happened to me. But I didn't hear a word. That night has been etched in my memory since then. I will never forget it. One, because of the love I have for my friend and how she felt so compelled to call me and speak so freely of things that she never spoke of before. And two, because it was the night that I had lost all hope that there was a God watching over me. I wanted a response and I didn't get anything. Not a single, solitary word came to mind while awaiting that response. After my experience in prayer the night before B's surgery, the memories of that night came flooding back into my head. Even more so the night we came home from the hospital. It was at that moment that I could hear God's voice. He was sorry for all the things I have been through. It sounds ridiculous and even as I write this, I am questioning whether or not to publish it, but it is the truth. I have never been so driven to establishing a cause. She and her husband happened to attend the same church I found online, another one of the strange coincedences. We met at the church doors so that we could sit together and she shows me her Bible. It is tattered and torn, like my soul. It has been used and abused and was in need of restoration. She tells me that she had to buy a new Bible a while back since this one was falling apart, but she had to bring it that day to show me something. She opened it and on the first page she had written my very old cell phone number and email address. There was nothing else on the page that shouldn't be. Just those two things of mine. She tells me that she had the same experience as I described that very night she called me so long ago. She had never experienced it before and has not since. She knew I was so mad at God and that was hard for her, but something told her that God had control of me and I would someday be ok. I of course, cried and hugged her and told her that she was my own personal saviour. She always believed that I could become something that I was not. I never saw myself as one of these people. The "religious" types. But she believed it to be true and here I am. We spent the service both of us in tears and we prayed together at the altar. It was amazing to join her in her celebration of Christ. That night I prayed for her. I thanked God for placing her in my life and keeping her there. And I prayed that she will come to lean on me as I have leaned on her for so long. I owe her that much.
So now here I am and some of my friends and family are a little taken aback by my willingness to share all of this and my quick reconnection with Jesus. I don't blame them, I would be too if the shoe were on the other foot. I am seeking out the truth, that is all. Is it the truth that I have been blessed by the Holy Spirit to fulfill my duty and serve Christ? Or am I seeking a reason behind all that has happened to me and feel the need to share it all. My heart tells me it is Christ, leading me to walk with Him. I have never been more certain of anything in my life. In my own personal struggles, my brain has always won out over my heart. It's who I am to my very core. But what is happening to me is throwing my brain a curve ball. I never saw this one coming and I am baffled by that. I fully enjoy writing these pieces and I try not to over analyze them before I post them. That is probably why you'll see some grammar or spelling mistakes. I want my thoughts to be as they are. I don't want to spend time cleaning them up, making them perfect for the public. I have actually spent more time reading my own blog over and over than I have reading other blogs. I know I have written it, but it reads like a book to me. A book that speaks directly to me, for me. So maybe that's what it is and what it will be. My own personal saviour......myself.
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