Major Epic Fail

As I mentioned yesterday, I’ve been avoiding processing BIG thoughts.  BIG time avoiding BIG time thoughts.  So last night when I got home (THANK YOU, my BFJ, for your lovely words of encouragement!) I sat in my comfy chair and tried to think the thoughts that needed to be thunk about.  (I know thunk isn't a word.) In the whopping 10 minutes I managed to sit there, I thought about the massive dust bunny under my dining room table, what to wear to work the next day, would my stash of Coke Lights last until another team went to Belize (sad, but true), and, finally (oh the shame) was tonight’s episode of “Big Bang Theory” new or repeat (repeat, FYI).

MAJOR fail.

Then, I had the not too brilliant idea of taking a walk around my neighborhood.  I made it to the end of my driveway when the pain from my broken toe (yeah, broken toe) was too intense (can you say WIMP) and I limped back to my house.

Major MAJOR fail.

Finally, I thought if I sat on my bed, with the TV off, my computer closed and my foot propped up, THEN I could do major thinking.

EPIC fail.

This morning, EARLY, I took my oatmeal, bible and journal and sat in my driveway.  After a few moments of making sure Lucy wasn’t going to wander the neighborhood without me and that Sweet Kitty wasn’t going to go off into the woods, I got quiet.  Real quiet.  Just me.  Just my thoughts.

Just God.

The things I need to process aren’t all BIG, but they are intertwined with some that are HUGE.   As I started to unpack them all and talk to God about them, I stopped and I realized – I couldn't talk to God.  Then a feeling washed over me that left such a deep, dark hole I thought I wanted to die...  I don’t trust God with any of the things I needed to process.  I mean, I TRUST God, but when it comes to hearing and answering prayers SPECIFICALLY in this area, I don’t trust Him.

MAJOR EPIC fail.

I first shared about the fact that I didn't think God hears my prayers here, and honestly I thought I was past it.  Really and truly thought it was a thing of the past.  Then I remembered a thought I had Monday , “I don’t know why I bother telling God about ________________ - it certainly isn't like He's listening to my prayers.”  


Yup – I thought that.  Me, the girl who has been a Christian since she was five, been on countless missions trips, had lived in the hood where gunfire, prostitutes and homeless people were regulars outside her door because she knew God would protect her and was convinced it was His will, doesn’t trust that God listens to her.

I have no major lesson learned, no impressive insight.  Just raw emotion and suffocating admission - I don't trust that God hears my prayers.