I was kneeling at the front of the platform, sobbing, unable to contain myself, and equally unable to move from that spot. I was wailing (or so I was told afterward) and halfway through the service a kind gentlemen suggested that I move to the side of the church as to not interfere with the service. I leaned on him until we got almost to the last pew closest to the door and BOOM!
This time I kept proclaiming, not using my inside voice, (or so I was told afterward) these words, "I can't do this myself." Over and over. Tears flowing, sobbing continuing, and yet I couldn't stop saying those words. For the first time in years I truly cried out to God. I didn't care where I was, how loud I was, (which was pretty loud or so I was told afterward), or what else was going on. Toward the end of the service two men knelt beside me and prayed but I couldn't begin to tell you what they said. I just remember God piercing my heart with every utterance and the growing realization that my life was about to radically different. I didn't care about my pain, I didn't care about my job, I didn't care about my apartment, I didn't care that I had been robbed of years worth of savings, I didn't care about having to sell my car . . . okay that's not totally true but you get the point. The only thing that truly mattered was confessing to God that I couldn't continue to live my life without Him. No way.
The service ended for most people but not me. I never saw my grandmother, she said after a certain amount of time she was scared to come over to where I was parked. I told her I understood, I wouldn't have come over either. But I will be eternally grateful that she invited me, even though I ended up taking her word that she was even there.
The tears finally started to slow and I looked up, trying to get my bearings. I was alone. Well, that wasn't true, for the first time in a long time I was aware of the presence of the Spirit of God in my heart. The clouds separating me from my Creator had parted, and through my confession I realized that things were going to be different.
There is so much I could tell you about the weeks that followed, beginning with the appearance of a friend from college in the parking lot of that church. His name was Garnett and the last I had seen him was hanging from a tree on the UTC campus. He proceeded to invite me to lunch where he explained that he was now a Christian and even though he was a beginner in his faith, he knew life change when he saw it. He became a great friend, a way better friend than when we had been in college, and a wonderful brother in the faith. He died in a plane crash many years ago but I still miss him.
No, the pain didn't magically disappear.
But what did disappear was my desire to replace that pain with alcohol. I started attending church on a regular basis, (not my grandmother's church - I loved her but no way could I show up there again . . . ), I read my Bible daily - actually devouring my Bible would be closer to the truth. But when I visited a bookstore to purchase that Bible, a song was playing on their speakers. That voice, and those lyrics, transported me immediately to the throne of God, and I again thanked Him for His mercy and grace. Quickly becoming aware that I was close to another emotional display I grabbed the first Bible off the display and asked the clerk who sang the song that was playing. His response, Margaret Becker. I had never heard of any christian artists but I bought that CD and wore it out over the next few weeks.
Literally.
I think I have purchased at least six of Margaret Becker's "Immigrant Daughter" CD. All of the songs were great but the one that continued to wreck me was her song, "Just Come In". I'm attaching a link to the song below.
If you have stayed with me during all of these ramblings I want to say Thank You. I write these thoughts mostly for my daughter but if they can be of any help to anyone all blessing to God.
He is our only Hope.
(And yes each time I say this my mind immediately reverts to that scene in Star Wars. I'm pretty sure He understands . . . )
