Growing up as a good Roman Catholic girl, I went to church every Sunday, went to a Catholic school, grew up praying and believing in God. I was told he was a patient and loving God, that would forgive me all my sins if I asked (that came in handy with my path) and was able to listen and hear me anytime any place. I loved him and trusted him to take care of me. I talked to him often growing up. Caught him up on all my shnanigans and plotted my next mischief with him. I asked for help with grades, help with my parents when I was in trouble. Asked him to make sure I was not killed for sneeking out at night and being caught. I thanked him for my family, my friends, my talents. (ouch that hurts a little more than I figured, talking about my talents.) You know. Good conversations. Do I talk to him now? No. I stopped talking to him Aug. 4, 1997.
Its still vivid that moment, my last conversation with God. I ran from my house when my mom told me that we lost our Jason. I dropped the phone to the floor and ran away. I ran from the pain, the anger, and the fear. I ran until my emotions made my heart beat so fast that I collapsed on the ground outside my friend Kristy's house. My friend Kristy who lived across the street from me ran outside and wrapped her arms around me and I said this "God took Jason from me!! God took my life today!! Why God??!! WHY!!!??" She picked me up and walked me home. Crying with me.
Glenn put me in the car and drove me towards the hospital where my parents were.
Where Jason was.
All the way there I cried. I decided to talk to God. He would save me. He loved me.
I closed my eyes. Tears streaming down my face. I folded my hands in prayer and this is what I said.
"I pray God for a miracle. I pray that you don't leave me alone in this world. I pray that you give my brother another breath. That he will still be here to love me. God I need love. I need his love. I can't survive without him. I can't survive without love. Please God if you love me, if you love this woman please don't leave me alone here. PLEASE DON'T let this happen. Please take me too if it you have to take him. Love me enough not to leave me here alone"
We all know the outcome of that day. My prayer wasn't answered. That was my final prayer, my last talk with God.
Here is the thing about God giving us our own free will. It was a precious gift that let us experience things that include all the emotions and feelings under the rainbow. But in giving us that gift he left us open for things we didn't want to experience, things HE didn’t want us to experience. This is what I have discovered. By giving us free choice he decided to let us live our own lives. Every time we pray to change something that is someone else’s free choice you are asking him to take that freedom from someone else.
The day I asked God to stop Jason's death I asked him to be in charge of Jason's choice. What I actually asked him to do was to take Jason's choice of his own death date away from him, to preserve me. That isn't fair. That isn't fair to Jason or God. The thing that hangs me up is did Jason choose that death date? Did he choose in that moment in the cold river water to go home to God to leave my parents, his friends, and me? I don't think I can handle that answer. So I choose to hear only what I want to. And that is nothing. Not really reasonable. But that’s the crapshoot of free choice.
So God isn't my foe. He never was. I may not find solace in praying to him right now. I hurt too much to do it. I don't know how to start our conversations now. I have nothing to say. I want to recover and heal and I know he is part of that journey. I am too busy living through my fear of being alone, my fear of being unloved, my fear of emptiness. I needed to do that alone.
I am getting to a place now, where I want help. Where I trust family and friends to help me and hold me up. I just had to dance in the fire alone for a while.
God is my friend, a friend that I need to heal enough to be with again. I will get there. I am on my way.
I know He is waiting for me.
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