This post is not going to be for everyone. I’m not secretive about my love for God, but the name Jesus really tends to ruffle feathers. Why is Dub crying in this picture? Because this morning was one of those mornings. Nothing I did could please him. No food, no boob, no love, no playing, comfort, reading, or anything at all. Except of course, anything he wasn’t suppose to have, such as dada’s empty beer cans, dog food, and electrical outlets. It’s this time of the month that I tend to get migraines and so I have been feeling one come on with all Dub’s crying this morning. At one point I held him while he tantrumed out and I just cried and prayed out loud “God, please help me out here, pllllleeeeeaaaaassssseeee.” I gave Weston a bowl of yogurt, poured myself a cup of coffee and walked away. To my amazement, somehow, yogurt was the answer. Or was it the yogurt?
Regardless of your view on the power of prayer (or the validity of faith), I have been thinking heavily on God’s Grace lately. I come from a very, very different world pre-baby. For all intents and purposes I should be at minimum, addicted to something, and penniless. At a very young age I was using drugs and making decisions that should have affected my entire life. Through no fault of my parents, I confirm to me that we are born with a certain soul and certain proclivities. I was born HELL-BENT. My twenties are a blur for the most part. Yeah, I held multiple jobs and was functioning, but I was dramatic, lost, and always searching for something that would fill a void in me. A void I could not understand, much less find the answer for. So I drank a lot, I smoked a ton, I was careless with others and thoughtless and reckless, and all the other less’ you can name. This isn’t me being a martyr, this is me just being honest. It is truly amazing I am where I am considering everything I did trying to ruin me.
What is amazing about this is that I am loved by a wonderful man, blessed with a healthy and beautiful son, and I have no addictions to speak of. I have no temptations that haunt me, and I am blissed-out just to spend my days caring for my boy and taking care of my husband by cooking and cleaning (take that feminists). Considering where I’ve come from, this shouldn’t be the case, yet it is. Only now am I beginning to understand what, or rather who, has allowed all of this to be. It has been given to me without me asking, and without my understanding. I think that is called Grace.
I’ve loved people who I thought were beyond helping before. I’ve prayed for them for so long that eventually I came to believe they were gone forever. Then, they come back. They return from whatever crazy town/addiction planet they had been on for a decade and they are whole and clean and better than ever. I catch Weston mid-fall multiple times a day. He is unaware of my intervention, and carries on like nothing was about to severely maim him. In a similar way I have spent my entire life being “caught” and spared, clueless to the forces that surrounded me. I’ve seen people beyond saving come to themselves for no reason other than Grace. I have experienced Grace in my own life that I still have yet to fully comprehend. I witness my child hell-bent on hurting himself simply through his own ignorance and I see just a glimpse into God’s world. I see how He can love us through our horrible choices and sin (sin, another trigger-word). We are like children who just don’t know. We don’t see.
After Weston finished his yogurt he had another good cry and then took a bath. By this point the coffee had kicked in and I was feeling better. Bath time=best time for Dub, so he was happy, I was happy, and even though I looked away for a second and turned back to find him tasting his poo, it was cool. We filled the bath back up and enjoyed the time.
I’ve not always been a believer. I’ve also spent some time believing in God, but not really being comfortable with the “Jesus” part. Lately, I’m starting to understand why Jesus is the key to the whole thing. Without Him, without His sacrifice, we would all be lost forever. The concept that there is a King of everything, a King higher than all other Kings; that that King would die for those that serve him? It’s completely backwards and the most beautiful story ever told. I am finally starting to understand how ever-present Jesus has been in my life. I need him in every second of my day. Prayer is a real thing, and I honestly don’t know how people get by without it. Yes, it is comforting, but it’s more than that. It is real, and I’m so grateful I have the chance to know Him.
Are you puking a little in your mouth right now? I get it, I’ve been there, and no I don’t mean I’ve been there as in I know more than you. I just get it. It took me forever to warm to the idea of looking like a complete fool. Of being made fun of by most intellectuals. Of being mistaken for those totally screwy Christians that gave the rest of us a bad name by passing judgement, by being hypocrites, by misrepresenting, and by being dumb. I’m not a typical Christian.
I knew a priest once who was an alcoholic. He spent years on the street, homeless and addicted to drowning his sorrows. He had lost everything. I don’t know what brought him to the priesthood exactly, but I know that he was one of the most REAL people I had ever met. His humility was humbling. His honesty dumbfounding, and his entire life seemed a contradiction. This man passed no judgement on anyone, and was truly, truly kind. It is a man like that, that brings people into the fold. He was just one person in my long journey toward God that drove me to and not from. That man’s life was similar to the life of Jesus. Jesus, who was perfect, obviously didn’t have a life like the first-half of that priest’s life. What he did have was the contradiction of the second-half. He accepted without judgement those who were the lowest and the most despicable. He loved and welcomed those who all others considered trash. Where on this earth, other than The Bible, is there a story like this? Nowhere.
I know I’m late to this game. I grew up in church, rebelled from it completely, tried on every other faith and approach, and now I am here understanding (or beginning to) just how incredible it is that we are saved. I’m okay with whatever negativity I will face for believing what I do. I pray that my life can be an example to even one person that Grace is real, and God is real, and no one is beyond redemption.
Now go forth, or whatever.