Sometimes I forget I can pray. I forget I’ll be heard.
I hear at church God loves us all.We are all precious to him. He sent his son to die for us. And it all sounds so good.
Then I go home. I open my door. I see toys and crumbs on the floor. Dishes piled in the sink. Clutter on the counters and I hear that whisper in my ear. You’re a stay at home mom. You have one job. What good are you if you can’t even keep your house clean. You’re lazy. You’re not a good mother. And I’m reminded of all the awful things people think about me and the things they’ve said about me.
I try to fight it but the whisper gets louder, the days are hard and I start to believe it. I’m not perfect and not a good enough Christian. I’m nothing, no one. What do I have to offer. No one cares about what I have to say.My words are pointless. I’m not a writer so I should just quit. I’m just a screw up that can’t do anything right. I’m a trouble maker, a rebel.
I’m weak and tired from all life has thrown my way. I start to believe my life is just destined to be a tragedy. I get to such a low point and I feel so worthless. Like I’ll never get anything right. Everything just piles up and I can’t breathe. My hope is nearly gone and I’m fighting not to give up or give in. I get so desperate and say I can’t take it anymore.
A few nights ago I was in a lot of physical pain. A pain I have been dealing with for 3 months and a bit. I couldn’t even fall asleep. So out of desperation I prayed. And the pain stopped. And it hasn’t come back, except for a slight pain when the area is aggrivated. Through this I’ve been reminded that I am heard. That I am allowed to pray. That it’s ok not to suffer even when I feel like I deserve it. That God will, one way or another, answer even my prayers. I still hear the shouts of all my failures and all the awful things people have said. But now I remember I can pray and I try to worship louder than the shouting in my ear.