Update

The Lord heard my prayers. Some of them He answered, some of them He ignored and one He answered in the exact way I needed but did not ask for. Funny how that works.

Let's just start with the ignored one. I asked for help keeping my confessions and my tears to myself. Pfft. I was spilling my guts and my tears all over the place, y'all. I did the ugly cry for half the service and started up again when it was over. It was embarassing and liberating. I guess the two sorta go hand in hand. You can't feel free if you're too worried about your mascara. I went through three tissues while I was there, which the church so kindly provided for me since I came unprepared. What kinda person shows up for something she knows she's gon' cry at and doesn't bring tissues? Somebody who's not entirely committed to showing up, that's who.

If you'll remember, I only promised I'd drive to the church and then I placed the rest of the burden at the feet of God. I kept up my end of the bargain but when I got there I was thisclose to turning around and going to Starbucks, er, I mean home. Somehow I managed to squash the urge and make it up the top step where I was overcome with dog tired and almost went back to the car for a nap. I mean, home. This time God put His foot down. He may have said "Get your fanny inside right this minute. You ain't goin' nowhere." I wrestled with the door for a second. You pull it open and I was justa pushing. I bet I sounded like a cat trying to cover up shit on a marble floor from the inside and they heard me coming because I felt like they all turned to notice me when I came in. And who should be standing right at the front, but my neighbor. This brings me to the prayer He answered differently than I asked.

I prayed so hard for there please not to be anyone I knew in that church. Aternately, I wished silently that I had someone with me who knew what a big deal it was for me to be there and who also knew why. My neighbor is the first person I ever told about my shameful church secret. I still remember her reaction: it was a cross between empathy and 'Why did you just tell me that? Now I don't know what to say.' But after that, I found my secret just spilled out sometimes, and as time went on, it became easier to shock and assault people with my secret and it didn't seem so shameful anymore. Why should I be ashamed anyway? I'm not the one who had a thing for little girls. So yeah, God gave me exactly what I needed this morning.

I survived the service and to their credit, no one really seemed to notice the puddle I was spilling, except I know it was obvious and they are all excellent actors. As things were wrapping up, I was planning my great escape when the words "If anyone needs to pray, the altar is open" were uttered. It took me about half a second to realize I should go up there and a brief pause for my next thought to be "Oh heck no. I did more than my fair share here today. I. Am. Leaving." The minister had a different idea. See, you can't show up to a church of 25 people and cry your eyes out then just leave. They don't take kindly to that. Its rude not to let them share your pain 3 days before Christmas when everyone's celebrating Jesus, the homeless baby, who came down here to endure it all for us. So she raced to the back of the church because she could tell I was looking for the nearest exit and she said "Can I pray for you?" But it was more of a rhetorical question. Kinda like when I ask Finley if she's ready to leave the park and she actually thinks I care. What I really mean is "Let's go now or I'm gonna sack you up and drag you to the car screaming like a political prisoner on your way to the gas chamber."  Same idea here. She didn't really care if I was a willing participant. On the way to the altar I confessed. "I was raised in church. I'm not actually here because anything's wrong."

*Eye roll and an implied, that's what they all say.*

She responded with "Okay, why are you here?" And the words just spilled out. I was powerless to stop myself. I was also empowered to keep talking and stop crying. All at once I felt free from the ties that bound me to my shame and my secrets and my fear and my worry. Free from the judgement and the sense that I didn't belong. Free of that nagging little feeling that my life isn't big enough, clean enough, good enough. Free from it all. I am enough. I have always been enough. I have always had a divine purpose. I have always been visible to God. He has always seen me through the big and small, good and bad, significant and insignificant moments of my life. He. Sees. Me. And He loves me just as I am with no qualifiers or conditions. Suddenly this thing I'd always been told and believed to be true, felt true. And it felt glorious. And it was my last prayer. Answered.