In response to the Daily Prompt in which we are asked to : Describe a memory or encounter in which you considered your faith, religion, spirituality — or lack of — for the first time.
I love this prompt. I love this topic and I love God, a loving God who has always been with me, no matter what I did or railed against them.
Like anyone, I imagine, I’ve had a twisted path to this God.
My parents were Lutheran, met at a Lutheran college, actually, and I was raised Lutheran. When I was in elementary school, they decided to transfer me from my public school to a private Lutheran one. It was terrible. I suppose elementary school and junior high are hard for everyone, but this was horrible. Not only that, but my real dad was abusive. My little child mind put these things together logically: My real dad was Lutheran… if God is our “father,” and He’s Lutheran, then he loves me like my real dad does, which only hurts me… These people (at the school) are also Lutheran, like God, and they’re assholes, too… I think God’s a prick.
In high school, I insisted on going back to public school. I had a great time, started working on holidays so I didn’t have to go to church, and by the time I went to Uni, I was verging on athiesm.
After my first year of school, I had a car accident. (I think I’ve mentioned it before on this blog.) I was in a coma for two months, and when I “woke up,” if you will, regained consciousness, I was pretty much a tabla rasa, a blank slate. I was weak, weighing in at 95 pounds, couldn’t go to the bathroom or shower by myself, couldn’t talk, and I couldn’t even really trust my memory. I kept trying to take inventory of my life, to figure out who I was and what I was doing on this earth.
I remember one night, I considered, “What do I think about God?” and I started to look around for evidence or clues. As I was looking to my right, I actually felt like God or Jesus was sitting in bed with me, next to me. Not ON the bed, but IN IT with me, under the covers, just sitting with me. A log of truth unrolled inside me, revealing the squirming mass of life under it: God was always there, and I had always known. Always. Even in high school or college when I pretended not to know, I did. And I also knew that I was too tired and too old to pretend that God wasn’t there anymore. I was mad and frustrated, but I knew God was there.
I have never questioned the idea of a Higher Power since. I was angry with my Higher Power, fought and struggled with things that didn’t make sense to me and questioned about the nature of the world around me. I think it’s okay to do that – God can take my anger.
Though I will never fully understand my Higher Power, I fully believe there is one, and it’s good for me.