I don’t write about this part of my life enough. I guess because I was raised in a home where we didn’t talk about it.
I am a Christian, (and I welcome people of all faiths here), and I believe in the power of prayer.
I’ve been finding myself on my knees a lot more lately for various reasons.
I was listening to the worship music station on the way to my doctor’s appointment this morning and I was almost in tears.
I need to drag my sick butt back to church this Friday (Good Friday in the Christian tradition), and Sunday (Easter). I just haven’t been feeling well and I’ve used that as an excuse to not go to church, but I need to go.
I really need that connection.
It’s a little difficult because when I engage with my church a lot, my mom chalks it up to my mental illness. That is frustrating. My faith is genuine.
I feel it deeply, and was brought to it by my Dad. Probably why she thinks it is weird.
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