Image Credit: http://www.thisischurch.com/images/praying.gif
I grew up going to church; not every Sunday but it was a part of what we did. I also went to Catholic school for most of my life so again religion was a focal point. When I went away to college, I would attend the campus church every now and again. But the older I got, the further away I got from it. I never lost my connection to God. I believe in his grace and his divine intervention in my life. When I got sick, my faith was fortified because I saw exactly what believing in him could do.
When I got “better” I was so eager to get back to the life that I had that I forgot about a huge part of who I am. I feel like a fallen soldier. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe you can serve God in many ways and going to “church” is only one of them.
I write to God regularly. I don’t pray in the traditional sense but I’ve always been humble enough to reach out to him through the written word. Most recently, I’ve been feeling that something is missing. I’m humbly reaching out and will make a an effort to make it back to him.
Yesterday I went to the orthodontist. I have to do a major jaw surgery in a couple years and braces are a precursor to that. I was scared, overwhelmed and insecure about having braces at 25 years old. But I have amazing people in my life from family and friends to coworkers, who encouraged me. I walked into their Wall Street office confident and unbothered. I went through the entire process like a champ. The doctor mentioned that I’ll have to extract two molars. She was going to have the surgeon take care of it, “this will help the overall process.” I thought no problem, I’ll come back and have that taken care of. Little did I know, it was going to happen sooner than I thought.
I went to the restroom. I stared in the mirror, admiring my new grill! I make my way back to the office and they say to me. Do you want to extract the teeth today? I’m like now? Frantic and nervous, I reach for my phone as I try to think of who I can call to pick me up. I thought the oral surgeon was going to give me anesthesia or something like that. He said to me no, we’ll just numb the area and extract.
I’m shaking, I have such anxiety. He preps the area and tells me to relax for a minute, he could sense my angst. In that moment I started to pray, not to myself, but really pray. I asked for the strength. I asked for understanding. I asked him to calm my fear.
To make a long story short, I finished the process and have spent the last two days recovering. I tell this story to say that we have to have faith in something. For me it is and will always be God. I’m not preaching from the mountain tops and encouraging Christianity because that’s not the point here.
What I will suggest is finding something to believe in: karma, the universe, something greater than you!
A Woman in Process