and no, these are not of the New Year's variety.
I haven't said very much about it here as some things are just too deep to write about, or even talk about, but I have been having some issues with disbelief. Not disbelief in God for that is immutable, but disbelief in me. A deep seated fear that when I drop off the mortal coil, I'll be found wanting...something along the lines of "depart from Me, I never knew you" kind of thing...the very verse which B. decided to preach on in the first week of December and left me a blubbering mess in the pew. So much of a mess in fact that I was unable to take Communion - and have been unable to shake since. (please forgive me if this is a bit rambled and all over the shop - it's late and I find these things very difficult to put into words.)
There is a person in my life who is proving to be the most dreadful stumbling block to my belief and my faith. Their beliefs are "Bible-based", but that's not what I see in Scripture, and it is not what I see lived out in the lives of those Christians whom I respect...and I do not respect this particular person...logic and sanity say that this individual has the wrong end of the stick and is manipulating Scripture for their own ends (incidentally a very dangerous undertaking), but regreattably, I'm not too good on being either logical or sane.
But what if this person is right and I am totally on the wrong track? What happens if I live my life the way I do and then discover at the end that I was wrong, but it is too late to do anything about it?
And what about children?? There is a school of thought within Christian circles that we ought not to deny ourselves children (i.e. use contraception) as children are blessings from God and to prevent conception is to prevent/circumvent God's will. Where does that leave me? I had a tubal ligation six weeks ago, effectively shutting the door permanently on conceiving ever. What if I got that wrong, too. Yet, I know that to have more children would leave me in a very vulnerable place healthwise. We didn't choose to end our childbearing days through vanity or financial consideration, but because I am not well enough to risk having another child. I have a disease which inhibits most aspects of my life, my husband's life, my children's lives and the life of my family. The children that I have now deserve a mother who will care for them properly, not a basketcase who is incapable of looking after them and loving them. But what if...
It's the what ifs that leave me awake and typing at 2am when I should be snuggled next to my bear.
What if, at the end of the day I am found wanting? It doesn't bear thinking about.
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