God

I am about to get surprisingly real. I'm trusting you with this information.
Why I believe in a God who both lets people hurt and saves them:

My bed has a metal frame,
that I hold onto when I am afraid of life.
Because I have had rib cracking,
lung tearing nights,
where I wanted to die.

I have thought about how easy it would be
to drive sideways instead of straight,
and end my endlessly crooked life.

But instead, I would hold onto my bedframe,
hold onto my breathing,
hold onto my life,
and choose to believe that God is forever holding onto me.

Sometimes my fingers shake,
at the memory of my hope shaking loose from my heart,
at the memory of sobs so loud I forgot they were coming from me.

I want you to know how much I have hurt,
so that you can know why I'm still here.

I am not someone who never thought twice,
never chose for herself,
never skipped seminary,
never stopped believing.

I am a side effect of therapist's offices.

I am also a side effect of choice.

But this is what I am trying to say--

if I died tomorrow and found out
none of it was real, nothing I believed was true,
I wouldn't care.

Because choosing to believe made me a person that I like.
Because choosing to believe was the only thing that stitched me up.
Because I believe we are expected to look for answers in the right places, not to never have questions.

Because a world with a God is a hell of a lot better than a world without one.

Because if you give up on your religion,
there is nothing stopping you from giving up on yourself,
on your family,
on life,
on happiness.

I needed a reason to get better,
and God was the best one.

I needed a way to get better,
and my religion knew how.

And I'm happy.
So happy in fact, that I don't mind all the times I wasn't.
I am not upset about all the tears,
all of the appointments,
and all of the questions.
They only lengthen the list of things I thank God for everyday.

I believe in a God who has personally pried my fingers from my bed frame,
held me until I stopped thinking my religion was suffocating me,
and instead allowed it to help me breath.