Alone With Him In The Human World

On Sunday I left the house in a rage (my back being full of steroids from the nerve block), and my intention was to take a short walk and invite Jesus to be with me. I could feel the impact of my steps on the concrete sidewalk in my sore back, and I didn't feel my anxiety dissipate.

I tried to focus on Jesus' presence. I didn't feel alone, but I felt alone with him in the human world. Thud, thud, thud. He was with me as I walked, but what did that mean, I wondered. I don't remember what I said to him or asked him, but I think I asked him how much more suffering he's going to give me and if he's going to rescue me any time soon. I think I told him that my life feels like something I can't survive - the physical problems, the tense marriage, the surgery my husband wants to get with all of this going on, the financial fears - and I asked if he was going to help.

There have been times when it's been really, really hard, and it's seemed like he hasn't helped. Even looking back, I haven't been able to see the help. Maybe because for years I feel like I've been underneath an avalanche, and I haven't been lifted out yet.

Today I realized what my dream job (second to novelist) is: internal corporate communications specialist. That's what I'm already doing at the faith-based clinic I work for; it's just not reflected in my title. I realized that I want to get my Master of Arts in Organizational Communication and work for companies trying to make sure the left hand knows what the right hand is doing. I want this more than every other professional job I've ever considered. My current job has shown me that this is where my flair is, and I want to pursue it.

On some days, I'm in too much pain to get dressed. Go to school? Apply for a new job? I can't think past lunchtime.

What will happen to me, Lord? Is this going to let up? If it doesn't, I can't even write a freaking book about it not letting up because of the pain. I'm starting to regret my 13 years without alcohol. Not really, but Jesus - please. Please grasp my frustration with all of this.

Alone with you, God, in the human world. What will I be doing 6 months from now? I really don't know. I love you. It's crazy, crazy love.