I want to talk about "religion" for a moment.
Now, I know you're probably thinking,
"My God Woman! I don't care what religion you are!"
But I'm not going to go there.
I'm not saying you're right or wrong.
It's really not about religion at all.
I'm telling my story. My viewpoint.
Before Bo passed away,
We would sometimes go to church.
We would sometimes go maybe every other weekend.
Definitely on holidays. With family.
And that was normal to us.
That was what we did.
Everyone did.
I thought.
I had no idea what a relationship with God felt like.
I knew that He was always present in my life.
Because somehow, I knew.
I would always pray before I would go to sleep.
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord, my soul He keeps,
And if I die, before I wake,
I pray the Lord, My soul He takes"
I would often pray it over my daughter,
my husband,
my son.....
After Bo passed away in September 2015,
I found myself wanting more.
I found myself wanting something different.
My heart was shattered and my world was upside down.
We would try our best to go to church.
We attended a Catholic church, just outside of where we live.
Months after Bo passed, we knew that we needed to go.
So we went. A few times.
And each time, we would go in, dab our hands in the Holy water,
and do the "sign of the cross" shortly after entering.
Then we would find a pew, and bow to a statue of Jesus on a cross,
at the front of the alter.
As soon as I would get into the pew,
We would be on our knees. Praying.
Only I wouldn't be praying.
My mind would be wandering.
My eyes would be too.
Do you ever have that?
Where you just can't quiet yourself down.
Well, I soon found that my eyes would be focusing on
the people in front of me.
Or the little boy beside me.
Or two pews up.
My heart ached as I reminisced about Bo.
And by this time the priest would for sure be talking.
Only, I wouldn't be engaged.
I would be engulfed in the sight of my son,
My ten month old son,
sitting in a casket at the front of the alter.
I would be paralyzed because of the smell of his body,
when I last kissed him.
How he didn't look like himself at all.
How badly I wanted to pick him up,
and run out of the church.
I was preoccupied with the thoughts of Bo.
And his little laugh that he would do,
because everything was so funny to him.
Needless to say,
I told Wayne. I was struggling.
It was out of my control.
But I knew that I needed help.
So we talked to our therapist.
We asked his opinion and took some advice.
But nothing worked.
Shortly after that,
I began letting an acquaintance of mine in.
Actually, she was another mother,
-Jessica-
who knew of me, and my story,
because her daughter was in the same grade as mine.
I began to let her in,
because she was different.
Because she seemed to care.
I began to confide in her-
because I wasn't able to form sentences anymore.
Because I had no courage to look up while I walked my daughter to school.
I walked with my head down and most of the time,
tears in my eyes.
So I let her in.
And I began confiding in her.
The topic of church came up.
And she invited us to come to her church in Waupun.
I told Wayne that we were going to go and see.
We arrived there for our first time,
around the end of June 2016.
This was our first Apostolic Pentecostal service.
It was a smaller church,
and Jessica spoke of that.
We walked through the doors,
and we were greeted with smiles.
We were greeted with hugs.
But I didn't know what to expect.
I didn't know how to react.
As they began to worship,
I began to sing along, quietly.
I watched as people around me started to cry,
and raise their arms up high.
I wasn't yet understanding why this was happening.
But I still continued singing.
As the worship service ended,
Pastor went to the pulpit and started to preach.
The preaching that this man did,
spoke right to my heart.
I cried. And cried some more.
He explained the ability to have a relationship with our Lord,
and strongly encouraged it!
I couldn't believe it. I was intrigued.
I didn't know what was happening,
or what this was.
But I wanted it.
I needed it.
I was hungry for it.
As time went on,
We kept attending.
I started to read my Bible.
And found great comfort in it.
Tremendous comfort.
So I encouraged Wayne.
I begged him to not let this come in between our marriage.
But it did.
Let's face it,
I was the one "changing the rules" per-say.
I was the one deciding to be different.
Not him.
And as we kept going, our families began questioning.
I received the Holy Ghost on
7/10/16.
I was baptized in Jesus' Name on 10/07/16
(Bo's Second Birthday).
I still try to read my Bible everyday.
And I'm still friends with Jessica.
Best friends, actually.
She is one of my favorite people,
in this entire world.
I'm changed because I found Jesus.
I found a relationship that was
burning to be recognized.
To be acknowledged.
To be felt.
To be known.
And I'm forever grateful.
I'm humbled.
And although I'm walking through
something absolutely terrible.
I couldn't ask for it to be different.
As bad as I want my baby in my arms,
I want a relationship with my God.
I want my eternity together.
With my God.
And my family.
Wrap your head around this.
Because it's a revelation to be made.
And to know that I don't
need to confess my sins
in a confessional.
Because no one can forgive us,
but the Lord Himself. (1 John 1:9)
for there is one mediator, (1 Timothy 2:5)
And to not call any other man father, (Matthew 23:9)
Don't bow to graven images. (Exodus 20:4-5)
And that being born of the water and spirit,
To be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ,
is the way to Heaven. (Mark 16:16; Acts 2:38; John 3:5-6)
Oh and by the way,
If you were to ask Jessica
why she decided to become my friend,
she will tell you to this day,
that God led her to me.
Because she prayed about it.
Thank you Jesus!
