I grew up believing in God.  I grew up with Christian values.  My family occasionally went to church.  I remember a few brief stints in Sunday school.  I remember a couple of summer’s going up the street to a neighbour’s house for a week in the mornings and learning a bible verse, hearing bible stories and doing crafts.  I learned the Lord’s prayer in school and happily recited it until it was banned. I like traditional Christmas Carols.  I believe in Easter and Christmas to celebrate the life of Jesus – not Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I’m still offended that Christmas concerts need to be Winter concerts and that as a music teacher I can’t teach any songs that mention Jesus.  I’m not trying to convert my students; I’m not preaching; I’d be willing to teach hebrew songs etc too.  What’s the big deal?

It was a huge deal to me to be able to attend Easter Sunday services at St. Paul’s cathedral in London when I was in high school.  In grade 11 I set out to read the entire bible.  I made it through 1/2 the old testament.  I made the choice to be confirmed as an adult and began attending regular services when I went to university.  I even became a regular member of the church choir and an assistant Sunday school teacher. I made sure both my children were christened in my church.  I was proud of my faith. But I stopped going.  The church didn’t fit anymore – the sunday school wasn’t working out; the congregation snarky; the politics ugly. I tried a new one.  It was better, but then the only time for swimming lessons conflicted and I got out of the habit of going.

Suddenly as the kids were getting busier, Sunday was the only day left to sleep in.  I NEEDED my rest.  I didn’t NEED church did I?  I can believe and have faith without being IN the church couldn’t I?  My husband didn’t believe in God.  He believed in the Christian morals and values but not the God almighty etc.  He wouldn’t attend with me.  I accepted that, but it made it that much easier to stop going.  I could let him take the kids for a hike and I could sleep and have some time to myself.  THAT was heavenly at the time.

But now I’m confused.  I’m jaded.  Life threw me a curve and I didn’t duck in time. I got hit HARD in the chest. My heart got broken.  I prayed and prayed at the time.  I prayed that God would help heal my husband. I prayed that I wouldn’t be left alone as a widow.  But I was.  It was an impossible reality.  How could I survive this?  WHY did God do this to me?

At that moment I figured, it was a waste of time.  I believed with all my heart that a miracle would come. That God would help me.  And it felt like he didn’t.  I feels like he just dropped the ball.  A big freaking bowling ball, right on ME.

Ok, I’ve been blessed with a fabulous therapist who I would never have met if my spouse didn’t die.  A good thing.  Through a couple of psychic sources I’ve had a couple of messages from him.  One message said that He is in Heaven because of my belief.  He had a place to go. I was right – there is a heaven.  WOW.  Powerful stuff. But I still want my spouse back.

 I find myself now praying more to my husband than I do to God.  I’m still not convinced in God’s love for me. There is the long standing part of me that clings to what I’ve always known. But there is this other part of me – the one that feels like its been burned over and over – that can’t possibly stand the idea anymore.

How can God take my husband from me knowing that I already suffer severe depression and low self esteem?  How can God then allow my daughter to be so mentally unstable and miserable? How can God take such a good man like my husband (here on in known as DH) and leave murderers and low lifes alive? WHY? WHY take DH?  Why was it his time?  WHY was I not able to live my life with him?  Why must my children suffer without their loving and involved dad?  WHY would God allow someone to report us to Social services in the midst of all our sorrow? WHY? Why were we put through that ordeal only to be totally vindicated and cleared of all accusations?  It didn’t strengthen me – it knocked me so far down I could have died.  HOW would THAT have been helpful for my kids?

The phrase “god only gives you what you can handle”  is ridiculous.  I’m unable to work.  I’m unable to enjoy my life.  Is this HANDLING IT?  Certainly NOT in my mind.

I have two close people in my life who have both been affected by cancer.  They both used to believe in God.  Now both of them – not so much.  Again – I don’t think either WANTS to lose faith, but neither feels overly joyous.  Ok – so the cancer is gone in one case and hopefully gone in the other.  But that journey has scarred them.  And scarred their outlook.  And made them question God.

I have another friend who tried to say it wasn’t God who “let bad things happen”.  That its our “freewill” that he’s given us.  But I can’t buy that.  My DH didn’t freewill his brain hemorrhage.  I didn’t freewill my daughter’s mental illness or the SW investigations.  They happened.  Beyond any control I had.  But if God is all powerful HE did have control.  Couldn’t he stop it?  I just don’t know what to think.

I’m excited that DH is in heaven.  I believe in heaven. I believe in ghosts, angels, orbs, spirits or whatever you want to call them.  I believe that there is another dimension co-existing with us.  Is God in charge?  I’m not so sure.

Will I go back to church again?  Probably at some point.  I feel a slight tug in that direction.  However I think my son will never go.  He is adamant that the whole church, creationism etc is crap.  And that devastates me that he feels this way.  Which tells me I guess I still believe and want to believe.  But I really don’t know how to go back to church and TRUST in God, when I feel like I tried that and it didn’t work out.  I don’t even feel like god picked me up and carried me through the hard times.  So even if I could accept that God had to have DH with him, then WHY did everything else feel like it was crumbling too?

My daughter didn’t even remember the Christmas story.  She was Jesus in the pageant! She was a little lamb.  But I stopped going to Church when she was 3 or 4.  And at 7 her Dad was gone.  By 9 she’d forgotten about Jesus.  I feel like I’ve failed her.  Again – I must still care and believe if this matters to me.

I guess its just that God is like a long time family member that I’m really really pissed off at.  I blame him for what’s happened and having a hard time forgiving him.  I don’t want to stay mad, but I just don’t know how to move past it.  Just like when a loved one betrays you; how do you trust him again?  How can you believe that it won’t happen again?  My heart is still broken – I can’t afford to have the broken bits shattered more.  There isn’t enough left.

So as I pray to my husband, I look for guidance and strength.  I seek courage and wisdom.  And I pray that the elastic in my granny panties doesn’t break, so that I can march forward in dignity.

And that’s me.