How I Became a Christian
Wednesday, Jan. 22, 2003, 9:47 p.m.

Oooh! Look what I found! Rummaging around in my grandmother's computer--I spent the summer with her 2 1/2 years ago--I found a bunch of things I'd written. Remember how I promised that I would tell you about how I came to God someday? Well, this is your lucky day! :) (Please keep in mind that I didn't polish this at all and it's from 2 years ago. My writing ability has increased significantly since then. No teasing about the quality. It's the content that matters!)

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8/28/00

Wow! Where do I start? Yesterday…was amazing! I went to church…actively wanted to, instead of a “Well, it’s better than sitting at home. It makes me think.” But…I got so scared at the morning service. I really don’t know why. Maybe just because it’s such a huge step…Anyway, I tried to slip out, but Anthony followed anyway. I think I hurt his feelings, but I’m not sure. He just didn’t understand! I needed to be alone. I can’t face my fears if I’m busy guarding myself from the rest of the world. Much as I’ve come to trust him, I still need my walls…and if I have to sit there and hold them up against him, I can’t face myself at the same time. Once he left, I just cried, really hard. I still don’t know why, exactly. I was just so scared…but I felt better after I cried. Calmer, if not more peaceful.

But last night! Last night was just…just totally amazing. Nothing in particular struck me about the sermon…some points I found myself thinking “That makes sense.” (“Abba, Father.”) But other than that…

No, the big deal was when everyone began to pray. I…finally let go, opened up, looked, however it is I should say it. And…well, I can’t think of any other way to say it, so, corny as it sounds…I found God. I saw two hands cupping…a crystal globe, I guess, but not fragile, not fragile at all. Beautiful, in its way, even though it wasn’t shaped quite right. There were rough spots, and sharp edges, and flawed faces of it, but…it was sound overall. And I felt like when I was 4 or 5 and I used to curl up in Daddy’s lap, and he’d stroke my hair, or kiss my forehead when I didn’t feel OK—whether I was sick, or sad, or hurting—or sometimes, just because I needed to know I was loved. A hand on my head. Probably not real, but I felt better, all the same.

Always. Never alone. Took a lot of repeating for me to be reassured. Only…I’m not sure who kept repeating it. I mean, it sounds pretty presumptuous to say that God spoke to me. But still…I’ve never been able to reassure myself like that.

And then another image. It makes me smile, because it’s so fitting. Myself as a barn cat. Not raised in the house/church, probably never have the manners (or airs!) of house cats, but strong, capable. Loved, taken care of when necessary, but mostly able to fend for myself. Loved. That’s the thing that gets to me. Not very important, no, but I’ve never had illusions of grandeur. Loved, welcomed. I have this picture of me sitting in His lap (child/cat, flickering back and forth) with Him petting me/stroking my hair, and me purring/laughing/smiling. Loved. And I asked, without really asking—all the ugliness, the pain? For a reason? To make you strong. To help those who have suffered more/worse. Truly a butterfly, then. Thank you. For my life. For what I can accomplish. For what I’ve been through. For the joy and the anger, the beauty and the sorrow, for now, this moment with You, and the rest of the moments I have. For laughter, but most of all for love. Always. Never alone. And I was so calm, so sure! The world looked so different, so beautiful. So many people—no longer feared, but seen as…a sunset, or the fog rolling in over the ocean. Beauty, all around me, that I’d been so blind to! And love. Always. Never alone. And healing. Some of those sharp, raw edges on the globe…they were gouged by Larry. But they’re not raw, anymore. Jagged, yes, probably forever, but not broken, and they’ll weather with age. My memories…are at a distance now. No more flashbacks, I don’t think. Or shudders when someone touches me. It…isn’t pleasant, or beautiful, or appealing…but it isn’t almost-hate, anger, fear, disgust…only pity. He’ll never know the beauty I see, and I’m sorry for that. I wish…I wish everyone could see with this new clarity I have. I wish people didn’t have to hurt and be hurt, that they’d just see. But I think it’s going to be a slow process for everyone to open their eyes. And I can/get to help heal the hurt. I won’t change the world, not by a long shot—but I’ll make a difference in the lives of a few people. And that’s enough.

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