Dear God, it’s me Karen

I’ve decided to journal my daily prayers to you. Well, I say daily but we’ll see.

I never was much one for prayer. I’m not much for religion. But I am spiritual and I think there are decent enough odds that something greater than me is out there listening. At least I hope you’re listening. I do know you’re at least out there.

I hope my inability to just pick a religion and follow it with all my faith doesn’t bar me from your heart and ears. I would like to think that a loving and benevolent God would see into my heart and soul and know I’m a good person whom always tries to do the right thing. I have trouble with organized religion, but so much of that is my mental health and individuals doing horrible things in your name. I don’t think a benevolent God would want anyone to hate or judge another in the name of religion. Much less take a life.

Faith on the other hand comes easy to me. There is so clearly something bigger than me out there. I saw it this spring in the prayer warriors that called to you in the name of my sister when she was on the brink of death. That wasn’t the first time I had called up to you myself, but it was the first time I really needed heard.

And hear us you did. It was close. She was days maybe hours from death but you heard us, you got her on that transplant list, and you got her a new liver.

I distinctly remember the bargain I offered up to you. I pled for you to save my sister not just for me, but for my mom whom is more worthy of your love than I am, and who was never going to be ready to bury a daughter. I bargained that I understood what my sister’s illness was doing to my mom and that I suddenly understood what it would do to her to bury me. I promised you that no matter your decision regarding my sister, I would never be the cause of my mom burying a daughter. No matter how depressed I am, I will always get help instead of taking the selfish route that would hurt all those I love.

This past week that got put to the test, but I kept my promise to you, God. I wanted to take pill after pill. I even knew which ones I wanted. But I kept my promise to you and I saw to it my mom wouldn’t have to bury me. I spent 5 days in the hospital and while I’m sure that wasn’t easy on my mom, she seemed relaxed when she saw me, because me being there meant I was taking the needed steps to be ok.

I left the hospital yesterday a little earlier than I was over all ready, but I was picking up on the anxiety levels of the ward and I needed to get away from all that as an additional step to keep myself safe. Now I sit at home feeling like a stranger visiting foreign lands, but I have my tools back and I can keep myself safe.

I prayed to you every night while there, unsure of whether you heard me, and I would like to make a habit of keeping up with my daily prayers.

I’m also typing them out because I need this as some sort of journal for myself. Hopefully I can see a cause and effect between prayer and changes happening in my life and I can better affirm my faith that you are there and that I’m worth listening to.

So I’d like to begin.

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