Faith

I’m figuring out what faith can do. For now, it means trusting. It’s a blind limp. I live a lonely life. My kids and my husband bring me joy, however, I spend a lot of time in my head. When my husband works, I stay home with the kids. I daydream about my experiences and embellish them. God knows it. He’s calling me to do something and I do not yet know what. Dark forces are following me. But I don’t sweat it. My family is concerned for me regarding my psychosis. But I know they simply can’t understand what is happening is real. The spirit is speaking to me.

So I go about my days and I do what I’m supposed to. I live for watching the kids grow. They are so big now. They have no idea what I’m going through. I keep it all inside. Sometimes I feel the Lord is very close. I panic.

I believed my husband was God. Thanks, mental illness. If you met my husband, you might understand. Especially in his teenage years. He looked an awful lot like Jesus. But he isn’t, obviously. These beliefs hurt my real relationship with God. I sort of fell in love with him. Not sure if he understands. Life gets strange when you see God in a romantic way.

I will say, once I rid myself of the gnarly words I use to describe my romance, I’m left with something quite nice. There was never a physical aspect with God, aside from the healing he brought me. I do get my wires crossed occasionally still. It gets weird when sex comes to mind. I mostly run from the ideas but that makes it worse. The darkness plays off of this concept. I know they’re trying to embarrass me. The silly girl who fell in love with God.

There isn’t lust in my heart for the Lord, only infatuation. I can’t describe it but most Christians can probably relate. God is beautiful. And terrifying. And exciting. Psychotic or not, everyone knows this. He is life. I could spend my whole life chasing after him. Sometimes I catch myself gazing up at the sky and pondering who he is and I have to stop myself before my panic sets in. The crossed wires. The jokes. The plague of confusion that still follows me around. I thought I might be some kind of chosen one.

But we all are in a way. I think it’s just a matter of how far we’re willing to take it. God’s torch and lit and ready for whoever wishes to pick it up and run with it. There was never a deep thundering voice that awoke me to my destiny. But I know I’m loved. He may not tell me with words but he shows me. I feel it in the wind. I see it in the trees. He is close to the broken-hearted.

Where will my faith take me? I guess I’m not supposed

to know.