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So when the whole world turns against me and I’m all by myself, and I can’t hear You answer my cries for help. I’ll remember the suffering Your love put You through… and I will go through the darkness if You want me to

I spent three years at a private Christian school. We often won character awards or fruit of the spirit awards. Without fail, I was always the one to win the faithfulness reward. The one who had a steadfast faith. Friends, adults in my life, everyone would comment on how strong and unshakable my faith was.

I am very much a cradle Christian. I was dedicated into the Nazarene church at a very young age. I’ve had a vast amount of Bible knowledge and have kicked ass at Bible trivia since I could read. Back then, I thought my faith couldn’t be shaken. Back then, I thought my faith was the only sure thing in my life.

Lately these days, I find myself becoming disenchanted with the notion of Christianity. And it scares me. I haven’t been to church in over a year. It’s sad and depressing, really. How did my once unshakable faith become so shaken?

And I find myself wondering if God is even wanting of me anymore. If God even desires me. After all, my arms have scars I created myself. I have used food as a way to hurt my body. I’m broken. Physically and emotionally. What could God want to do with me?

It’s hard. I find myself wanting to yell at God and call Him a few select names. I find my health falling apart and no one knowing why. I find my physical and emotional health in shambles.

I find myself questioning how He could be strong enough to fix me. Which is kind of silly if you think about it. Why am I questioning the one who formed me himself? I mean, hello, God sees me even when I’m pooping. If he’s okay with that, why am I so worried that he won’t take me “as is”?

Why do I question if the One who was by my side during every appointment, even if I didn’t feel Him, is strong enough? Why do I question if the One who was strong enough to give up His own, only beloved Son is strong enough to fix me?

There’s a peace I’ve come to know, though my heart and flesh may fail
There’s an anchor for my soul, I can say “it is well”
Jesus has overcome and the grave is overwhelmed
Victory is won, He is risen from the dead
And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on Eagle’s wings
Before my God, fall on my knees

The thing is, my heart and flesh will fail. I’ll fall victim to my emotions, to my mortal desires, to my physical health. But there is one thing that won’t fail – Jesus blood never failed me yet, never failed me yet. There’s one thing I know that He loved me so.

I may have failures in life. I may screw up. I may watch every aspect of my health fall to pieces. I may struggle with my faith. But you know what?

It’s all a part of life.

I hear the Saviour say, “thy strength indeed is small
Child of weakness, watch and pray, find in me thine all in all.”
Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe
Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow

Lord, now indeed I find, Thy power and Thine alone
Can change the leaper’s spots and melt the heart of stone
Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe
Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow

And when before the throne, I stand in Him complete
Jesus died my soul to save, my lips still repeat
Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe
Sin had a left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow

Oh praise the one who paid my debt!
And raised me up from the dead

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I learned it bywatching you.

Tim Hawkins summed up this song with “My son got mad ’cause I worked all the time, he grew up to me a jerk just like me. And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon, and some other poetic stuff.”

John Mayer sang “Fathers, be good to your daughters. Daughters will love like you do.” A powerful PSA from 1980’s is “I Learned It By Watching You”

The thing is, children learn from their parents, if they want to admit it or not. Ultimately, in the end, we have the choice to act on what we learned and what we were taught, but it doesn’t mean that it lessens the imprint on us.

There was never a time my father was without a bear can in one hand. His breath always smelled like beer, usually Milwaukee’s Best. He’d sit in front of the computer, with his bag of potato chips and his beer can, watching the telly.

I learned so much from watching him. I learned how to be a good girl. I learned how to act on and to lead people on into thinking everything is fine. I learned how to play the game that makes people think that life is fine and I learned how to throw up walls. I won’t even go into what I learned from my mother.

And then it scares me –
what will I teach my children?

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Every lament is a love song

My dad’s dad died in 1975.
My Grandma Dixie (dad’s mom) died when I was eight.
My Pawpaw (Mom’s dad) died when I was nineteen.
My Mawmaw (Mom’s mom) died when I was twenty-three.
There was my great uncle, my great aunt, etc, etc, you get the picture. I’ve been to more funerals than weddings in my lifetime.

I’ve had various friends die over the years. Most were ones I used to be close to but then fell out of touch with. One I used to be close to, then we had a fight and never made up. Others, I just got busy and selfish with life and we just didn’t talk anymore. And it sucks. I have various memorials set up in my room to various people: a stuffed pee cup for Nick (LONG STORY), the teddy bears Rachel sent me long ago, my grandpa’s beanie baby lady bug, the list goes on.

Hell, I just don’t grieve well, I don’t think. I stuff and I stuff and I stuff and I stuff. My puppy (Pirate wasn’t even a year old when he died) died 10 years ago and I still haven’t fully processed it.) But my biggest fear is that I am going to die young. I’m plagued by health problems. What if I die young? What if I leave friends behind asking the same questions I am asking now? What if it isn’t my health that takes me, but a car accident? Something else? Will I leave behind a legacy?

I just can’t help but wonder these things. I’m terrified of dying.

Mrs. Tanner: Sweetie, I’m seventy-four years old, I’m ready to go.
J.D.: Yeah, but with dialysis, you could live another…eighty or ninety years.
Mrs. Tanner: I think you’re being a little irrational.
J.D.: No I’m not.
Mrs. Tanner: Everybody dies sometime.
J.D.: No they don’t.

***

Dr. Cox: (In mock crying voice) But what about our duty as doctors? (Back to normal voice) Look. This is not about Mrs. Tanner’s dialysis, this is about you. You’re scared of death, and you can’t be; you’re in medicine for chrissakes. Sooner or later, you’re going to realize that everything we do around here, everything is a stall. We’re just trying to keep the game going, that’s all. But, ultimately, it always ends up the same way.

***

I’m terrified of death, which is odd considering I was hospitalized in 2006 due to being suicidal and in a crisis home for the same reason in 2009. But I’m terrified of death. It scares me senseless. and that’s just… I don’t even know. I’m out of words to describe how it makes me feel. But I know that my health is falling apart. I know I’m not a healthy 24 year old.

And it breaks my heart that one day, likely while I’m still young, my friends will be wrestling with the same gut-wrenching questions that I wrestle with.

Every lament is a love song,
yesterday, yesterday,
I still can’t believe you’re gone…