Tears and prayers. They’re both powerful things. I realized that on the night of October 2nd.
This isn’t the normal sort of blog post I write here. Usually, I take a topic
and expound on it, sometimes with my own opinions—but rarely do I have anything
that happens in my life worth actually telling about.
But the night of the 2nd… while nothing happened physically, I
believe I grew a little more spiritually. And that’s why I want to share the
happenings of the 2nd with all of you.
I had been having a rough day. College had me stressed out, and not only that—the
internet was down all day. That meant I had to be behind on schoolwork (I need
internet access to the courses), and I couldn’t talk to my friends to calm
I was on the verge of tears most of the day… but none of them fell. For some
reason, I refuse to let tears fall when there’s a danger of someone seeing me.
Finally, the internet was back on, and I proceeded with the evening as I
usually do. I chatted a few friends, and asked questions to another friend
about a trip they plan on taking over here (we were trying to figure out if
they could stay overnight at my house when they visit). And I talked to one
friend—an adoptive older sister—about my fear of losing the people I love,
whether it be now or in the future.
Well, I was feeling slightly better when I shut the computer off for the night.
I asked my mother about this overnight stay before she went to bed—and she said
no (she has changed her mind since then, however, but that’s not important to
this blog post).
Her saying no, I suppose, is what finally drove me to tears. I cried quietly
(not too much sobbing) for about fifteen minutes, curled up on my bed and hugging
my stuffed panda bear extremely tightly. Eventually, the tears stopped.
But then, for some reason, I decided to read through that conversation with my
big sister again.
It hit me like a tidal wave. Within seconds, I was sobbing and I couldn’t stop.
It went on like that—with me trying to stifle the sounds—for about ten minutes.
It didn’t slow down, but despite that fact, I suddenly started to talk.
Just talk. No formalities, no trying to choose the right words—I just started
pouring all of my emotions out into words, ignoring the fact that I was
speaking through the sobs.
At first, I had no clue who I was talking to—at first, it seemed as though I
was just talking to myself. But that made no sense, because I was begging
Someone to help me. I was talking as though someone was sitting right beside
me, listening to every word I said.
I eventually realized that I was praying, sort of—not in the traditional sense,
but I was pouring everything out to God in a rush of repeated words and
And, for about forty minutes, I just talked with Him. At first, I simply told
Him how much it hurt, and how afraid I was of losing the people I loved, and
how lonely I felt. I said I knew I shouldn’t feel lonely, because I was never
really alone, but I couldn’t help it. I asked Him to help me be strong.
A realization randomly struck me, a sudden rush of clarity in my muddled mind—I
realized, sharper than I ever had before… that God is huge. He is bigger
than… than everything.
He is bigger than the tallest tree you’ve ever seen. He is bigger than the
forests. He is bigger than the deserts, the mountains, the seas. He is bigger
than this planet we’re all on.
And I realized that last night (the 2nd), while I cried.
I told Him for a few minutes longer how I was feeling; I think I said, at one
point, something that went a bit like this: “And… I know I shouldn’t, but I’m
scared of losing the people I love. I shouldn’t be scared, but I am, even if
they won’t be gone tomorrow, they will be sometime in the future, and… and I’m
going to miss them so much.”
A thought ran through my head—almost as though someone or Someone else were
saying it to me—that said, “But it’s not forever. You’ll see them again.”
And then the confession of the doubts came.
Yes, I doubt. I struggle with doubt every single day; not just of things and
people, but of God Himself. It’s not something I tell people, because I’m not
proud of the fact.
But last night, in a rush of words and tears, I confessed all the doubts. That
sometimes I doubt there will ever be an end of endings—or a new beginning, the
terms are interchangeable for me. That I doubt I will ever go Home to Heaven.
That sometimes… sometimes I even doubt that there really is a Heaven.
I never doubt the existence of God. But somehow, for some reason, I doubt the
existence of Heaven. I don’t know why. But I do.
I confessed those doubts first, and then rambled about other doubts I have—the doubts
I have of the truthfulness of my friends, the often-appearing certainty that
they’re lying and don’t really care about me at all. The doubts I have that
anyone really loves me (including God Himself). The doubts I have that I’m
really worth anything.
I felt guilty about all of these doubts, and switched from letting all of them
out to pleading with God to forgive me, and to help me banish all of the doubts
I was feeling—the ones I have about Him and Home, the ones I have about my
friends, and the ones I have about myself. And after pleading with Him to do
so, I felt a small flicker of peace somewhere deep inside.
I wasn’t finished, though. As my mind dwelled on thoughts of Home, another
sudden realization, clear and sharp in the haze of my mind, hit me—the true
meanings of the words ‘forever’ and ‘never’.
You see… I pin deadlines or time limits or what-have-you on things all the
time, and I think subconsciously, I had always assumed that even Forever had an
But last night in the midst of the tears, the true meaning of the words came to
me. I finally realized that ‘forever’… it means ‘forever’. Always. There…
is… no… time. Time simply does not exist. The same with ‘never’—when you go
Home, you will be there forever (no ending, always, eternity) and will never
have to hurt ever again. Ever.
And I finally realized what that meant. That when I go Home… time will cease to
exist. Forever will really be forever.
The spark of peace inside of me grew to a small flame. But it still didn’t end
I talked of Home to God for a while. About how sometimes I wished I could just
go Home now; not necessarily end my own life, but just to skip ahead to
when He decides it’s time to take me Home, so I can be there and stop hurting.
I, still sobbing, told Him how much I wished with all my heart to be able to
skip ahead to the time where I can be Home, with my friends and family and the
ones I love forever, and never have to hurt again. Never have to miss them,
never have to worry, never have to feel lonely, never have to say goodbye.
I have such a fierce longing for that time… it sometimes conflicts with the
doubts I have about there really being a Heaven. But the longing is always
Then I talked of how I understand I can’t end my life to go Home now, because
not only can I not leave my friends… but also that there is a journey I have to
complete. I have a long road to walk yet.
I really said that—I used those words. Journey. Road.
Then the sobs came harder, and I confessed the pain. I whispered that sometimes
this Journey hurts so badly, and oftentimes it feels like I’m trudging down an
abandoned, desolate Road, surrounded by shadows and mist. Alone… so alone. Chased
by painful memories, unable to run and escape them because, after all, how can
one escape themselves?
I cried that it hurt, and that I don’t even know where I’m going; where the
Road ends. I don’t even know what my Journey is! I don’t know what purpose I’m
supposed to fulfill. I whispered that I wished I could know.
And then something occurred to me, almost as though a Voice murmured it to me.
Then I said in a quiet voice between sobs that I understood what I need to do.
I understood that I need to simply walk the Road and let God lead me to where
He will—that I simply need to let Him lead and not worry about my destination
or what will happen at the end.
I talked of that for a while longer, and then stopped crying briefly. I lay
there on my bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to steady my breathing. I
thought it was over—that I had stopped crying, and that I had poured my heart
out to God, and that it was finished for the night. I would have no more
realizations or tears, and would just attempt to get to sleep. I felt restless,
though, and had a hard time relaxing.
Suddenly, like a splash of icy water in the face… yet another realization struck
me, and it was the most powerful of all.
As I lay there, I realized something I have known all my life, but never truly
understood, appreciated, or realized as sharply until last night. It hit me so
hard, it felt like I had truly, physically been shaken awake.
I realized in a sharp way I had never before, that Jesus was mocked and beaten…
for me. He went through unimaginable agony and torture… for me. He was utterly
alone, forsaken by even His Father in the end… for me. He died a horrible death…
Not only did I realize that, but another fact slammed into me—I don’t
deserve any of it. I don’t deserve it at all. Without Him, I would be
nothing but a worm that lives and then dies and fades into nothingness, having
had no purpose in life. And even with Him, I am still nothing but a sinner
saved by the grace and love of One greater than all.
And as those realizations pounded into me, I started sobbing again. Yes, the
full-on sobbing. I kept whispering ‘thank you’ over and over again, that I didn’t
deserve any of it, but He had gone through it anyway. I must have said ‘thank
you’ at least fifty times within five minutes, but I didn’t care. I just kept
saying it and crying.
And the burning embers inside of me became a blaze—the flames of hope, the fire
of gratitude, and surrounding it all the glow of peace.
I stopped crying again, and this time it was final. I lay there, quietly
staring at the ceiling with nothing but the sound of my own breathing breaking
the silence, and I thought about all that had happened—all the realizations I
had come to.
Then I whispered ‘thank you’ one last time, turned out the lights, and went to
And the reason I wanted to share all of that with you… is because it had a huge
impact on me, and I hope that it will have an impact on all of you as well—even
if it only has an impact on one of you, then that will be a blessing in and of itself.
Not only that, but all of the realizations I came to… they can apply to you as
well. Especially this—Jesus went through all of that pain and grief for you.
He died… for you, my brothers and sisters.
I had one last realization before I went to sleep.
No matter what happens, God has it all under control. He knows the end of your
Road and the purpose of your Journey, even if you yourself don’t understand
them. He knows every single thing that
will happen, and He will work it all together for the greater good.
He holds you in his arms. And even if you stumble on your Journey… He will
never—never—let you go.