I don’t know, but yes. I watched someone very close to me die…I mean, I watched him take his last breath. That was the day I started to believe in God, again. I hated the idea that I had no idea where he went or whether he was safe. The idea of it terrified me.
I always thought that when I die, it would all just be nothing…quite literally nothing. That’s it — you cease to exist. And I think a part of me liked believing that because I never truly cared about myself or where “dead me” would go. But for someone else, I want them to be safe, and it makes me wonder why I never cared enough about myself for that. But I don’t want to delve into that at this moment.
So, my grandpa died this year. I prayed. Another client passed away. I prayed. My friend needed a job. I prayed. My friend got injured. I prayed. Everything in my life changed. I prayed.
I prayed for everything to be okay and asked God to make sure everything worked out the way it was supposed to. Before this, I only prayed when I was in desperate need of help…maybe once a year. This past month, I think I’ve prayed at least four times every week. I shut my eyes, intertwined my fingers, and prayed on top of a mountain today. I asked Him to give me strength and patience.
It has come to a time in my life where I don’t believe that I have to do this all alone, and maybe I should lean on God. I don’t know…religion is hard. I want to believe but also don’t know how. And I don’t want to pray only when it’s convenient for me, like I have in the past. But I also don’t know…asking God to help me sometimes feels selfish in some way. I think I just need to believe in something, and I think that something is God.
There is a boy in my life who wears a cross around his neck. Surprisingly enough, I don’t own any crosses or cross-shaped items. Early in the morning, before he wakes up, I hold the cross in my hand, close my eyes, and I pray. Obviously, since it’s around his neck, I pray for him but more often than not, I’m praying for myself and my life. Something about having the cross within my palm just makes it feel so real.
It’s taken me a while to get back to Him since I stopped believing in grade school, but here I am, trying again.