This date holds a lot of significance for me. For the past five years. But this year is different. Today is somewhat of a spiritual graduation day for me. And I earned it!
Five years ago I lost you. My best friend. You were alive but we no longer spent time together. Which was a great sadness for me. Even despite everything that happened.
But I determined to stay busy with going to college full-time while working full-time. In my last semester and entering the second year of my commercial real estate career. I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want to give up even though all the color drained from my world once we were apart.
I didn’t realize until the weeks wore on how attached I had become to you over the prior years. My resolve wouldn’t kick back in like I could always make it do before. This time was different. And the pain scared me. I couldn’t snap out of it.
But I still tried to do what I always did before: work, work harder, and then work some more. I filled up my summer with classes. Then I took a full load my last semester.
The strangest thing happened. My degree plan had been set in place two years prior. But all of a sudden the last semester I was told that I needed one more class to graduate. At the last minute. Almost before registration ended.
It was a scramble to figure out what I could take that would fill the requirement so I could graduate. It was a humanities elective so there were a lot of different courses that would have worked except almost all the classes had already filled up. Reluctantly I agreed to sign up for one of the only classes left: a world religions course.
I had been growing stronger and was in the process of knowing how good God really is, but I was still very much in the Calvinist mindset. My Sojourner, as I referred to her in my first book, had been planting seeds that were taking root unbeknownst to me. But at that time I was still talking a lot of the religious talk I had grown up with.
And part of that religious talk was that there was only one group that got it right, that had truth. For my whole life I had been vehemently discouraged from doing even the slightest bit of research about beliefs outside of my own denomination’s dogma. To do so was to risk being whisked off by the devil. Basically. So I was terrified to take this world religions class. What would happen to me? Would the liberal demons take over my soul?
And to be sure, the entire class was basically a direct assault on Christianity. The professor made no qualms about his great distaste for people who professed to follow Jesus. I’m assuming that came out of being hurt along the way by some. But it was as bad as could be. He assaulted Christianity on every stereotypical level.
But that class was exactly what I needed. The professor made some valid points, even if I didn’t agree with him throwing the baby out with the bathwater. And whether he or the textbook said it, by the end of the class I realized that the story over all time for humans has been the recognition of a Creator even if the names and forms were different. And then bad things would happen and the humans, Christians included, would say their god of choice was punishing them for something they felt guilty about. And then in every religion the humans would setup some system by where they would try to earn their way back into the good graces of their god of choice. Every story was essentially the same no matter the religion.
This surprised me. I had been taught my whole life that Christianity was different. And this was based on our God is better than your god. But I would soon learn there is more to the story.
Earlier that year my brother had called me after a conversation with our biological father. Who once stood at a pulpit and had led Bible studies. But now was saying Jesus was just someone like Martin Luther King. And God couldn’t be real because He was sending people in Africa to hell because nobody told them about Jesus. And this was shaking my brother’s foundation. He called me feeling a bit down about it.
I was so mad for my brother. How dare my father take away God for him! But I was no theologian. Just like the man Jesus healed, all I could say was, “Once I was blind and now I see.” In the sense that I knew I had experienced God personally. Some of the stories I already shared here. And my experience with God was that He was very, very good. Always merciful and loving.
So I told my brother that I was convinced God wasn’t the type to abandon the Africans to hell just because they hadn’t heard of Him. That wasn’t the God I had experienced. Even though I didn’t have the theological explanations to defend that.
My brother wasn’t convinced yet. He was still unsure and questioning. But I had enough sense and belief to tell him to ask God for the answer. Because I knew if God spoke to him then he’d get it. And so we jumped off the phone and then I asked God to please help my brother know the truth.
Well it wasn’t very long after that I was watching Oprah’s channel on YouTube. Her Super Soul Sunday program. And she had on William Paul Young, author of The Shack. The book Sojourner had given me to read many years prior. Where God was written as a black woman. And although that didn’t fit in my theology, the bigger truth in that presentation always resonated deep within me. Way past words. Where often in my frequent fears I would feel a spiritual mother figure comforting me. Not something I ever thought about further though.
Just like world religions classes, The Shack was strongly discouraged against in the circles I ran in. Thankfully I didn’t know this until after I had read the book. I had no idea how popular it was until after Sojourner had given it to me to read. Again, the mercies of God.
And I would not have been interested in watching the clip of Paul Young talking to Oprah except that one time Sojourner had mentioned that Paul Young was a friend. That little seed of information had always intrigued me although I never dared to ask for more details. But how does this person I know from Central Texas become friends with a guy who doesn’t live here and whose book is known all across and around the world?!
So when I saw Paul Young on the screen I realized I was only two people removed from Oprah. And that blew my mind. This woman I’d watched so many times on the television since I was a kid in high school. Because of that, I gave the clip a listen. Expecting some divine revelation. Some hope for my hurting soul after losing you.
But to my great surprise and anger, Paul Young was telling Oprah about his infidelity. I was livid! God-damnit, was every last man on this planet a fucking piece of shit?! Was there not one man of God out there that actually didn’t take advantage of women and wasn’t a royal fucking hypocrite?!
Paul Young had cheated on his wife with her best friend. That hit a little too close to home. And although the clip quickly ended without going into much more, I was now obsessed. Determined to find out whatever more was out there about this situation. So pissed.
Back to YouTube. And I started from the oldest videos I could find. It didn’t take more than a minute or two before I ran across a video of Paul Young telling his life story. And it changed literally everything for me.
He told about how his parents had been missionaries in a country where no one spoke English. How his earliest memories are of being touched and assaulted in the worst ways by the tribe his parents were “ministering” to. And then being sent off at a young age to a boarding school where the older boys did the same to the younger ones. Ripped apart in so many ways.
But he did what all good brainwashed Christian kids do: continued towing the line. All he knew. Until the pressure of trying to keep everything together after so long finally broke him. And the adultery was part of that. Not an excuse, but certainly a reason.
The rest of his talk was about how he experienced God personally while working through his junk and eventually reuniting with his wife. Who was the one encouraging him to write what would later be known around the world as The Shack.
This gave me hope. Would you and I one day be friends again? Was this a sign?
One sentence. One sentence is all it took for my mind to open. It was when Paul Young said that The Holy Spirit was referred to in the feminine form. I am a stickler. I had been in church since the day I was conceived. And I had never heard anyone refer to the Holy Spirit as ‘she’. So I had to pursue this. I had to find out. Or else everything Paul Young said might be wrong. And then you wouldn’t come back.
So I researched it. And lo and behold Paul Young was right! The original language used feminine words to refer to Holy Spirit! What?! How had I never heard this before? All these years in verse-by-verse churches and no one had ever told me this. It made so much sense – I knew Jesus didn’t have two gay dads! 😉
But if that was true then what else hadn’t they told me? What else could they have been wrong about?
Now I was hooked. And I started listening to everything I could find online with Paul Young speaking. It wasn’t even a day later that I stumbled onto the Shack Revisited series with Baxter Kruger. Someone I had never heard of prior. But who clearly was grade-A certified Calvinist. Or had been. And he spoke my language 100%. I could hear him because of it.
And so I listened to almost all of the videos in that Shack Revisited series on the same day. Only stopping because my mind was so blown that I needed a break. But in the best way. Suddenly everything I had ever known was being upended. But there was no fear. Totally the opposite. For once in my long painful life, for the first time I fell asleep that night in peace. A vision accompanied it: I saw myself climb up on God’s lap, nothing I would have done before, and I put my head on His chest and fell asleep.
For the first time in my life everything made sense. So many questions answered. I had been blind but now I could see. My mind was at peace and my heart was filled and still. Now I understood how the Africans and everyone else were eternally safe.
I was so excited to tell Sojourner. All these years she had been working with me. She would know how significant all this was. And she did. She said the peace I felt for the first time definitely spoke for something.
Even more than that, unbeknownst to me she had been leading a study at her church and they had been going through one of Baxter Kruger’s books. And were preparing to go to a conference in Mississippi where he was speaking. There was a waiting list as all the spots had been filled. But one person from her group had signed up and now was unable to go. Sojourner offered me the ticket if I was interested.
Whoa! The timing was undeniable. Had she asked me a few days before I would have said no. But of course God knew what He was doing. On so many levels. Because Sojourner had tried to give the ticket to others but none had been able to go. She didn’t even know that while I was watching the Shack Revisited videos, a desire birthed in my heart to be able to talk to these guys one day: Paul Young and Baxter Kruger. I figured maybe it would happen years down the line, but God made it happen in days!
I went to that conference in Mississippi. And then met Paul Young in person the following year. He even approached me. Which was only significant as it related to healing some church hurt I experienced. Which I can go into another time.
But all to say this was such an amazing experience and you were the one person I most wanted to share it with. And yet I couldn’t. Because you weren’t interested. I tried, but you kept giving me the cold shoulder.
I couldn’t understand. Why would God give me this great gift, the greatest yet, and not let me share it with you?! That’s how we initially connected – our love for God. How many thousands of miles and hundreds of hours had we spent over the years driving and talking about God?! You helped me off the ledge when I was spiritually despondent. Thinking I had ruined everything. We even started a Bible study together that others attended. So why would God not open the door to let me celebrate this with you now? The one person I wanted. Wasn’t He a God of healing?
It was such a dichotomy. Simultaneously experiencing so many new good things but with each one the pain growing deeper at missing you. The good things didn’t help, they just made life more painful.
This probably sounds weird if you’ve never experienced it before. I certainly didn’t understand when you told me that you never even wanted to see another sunset because it was too painful. How could you not want to see a sunset?! But now I get it. Every good thing that happened without you was a painful reminder that you weren’t there.
But I couldn’t go backward. I couldn’t go back to the theology that had tormented me before. The only thing I could do was go forward and hope eventually you would come back and come along.
Months passed. I was really impatient. I would keep trying. You know me, the Never Give Up girl. But instead of making any headway, your responses became more resistant. Telling me to basically fuck off and never contact you again. I was so confused. You had been my voice of reason. My sunshine as I came out of some really dark times. And now it seemed like all logic was lost on you. I tried but I couldn’t understand. So it was really difficult to accept.
Maybe that helped contribute to my desire to finish my college career with the 4.0 GPA I earned even during the midst of my deep sadness. Because I had to prove it to myself. That I was smart and I could do things. Even if I couldn’t change or get through to you.
But the cruel reality was that accomplishments were hauntingly empty because I couldn’t share them with you. I was nominated and received the Distinguished Graduate award. I was selected as the student speaker for the Distinguished Graduates ceremony. I gave a speech about never giving up. I choked up during the part where I talked about people not knowing what hell we’d been through to earn the grades we made. And the room was so silent until I finished and then audience that filled the auditorium gave me a standing ovation. The dean of the whole college even came up and complimented me.
But all I wanted was you. Without you there I appreciated it but couldn’t convince my heart to get excited. You were the one who helped me fight my fears and even sign up for classes. How many times and how many hours did you spend talking me down after I was afraid pursuing a career “in the world” was going against God? You were the one who made it possible for me to even be in commercial real estate. You were the one who went with me to the campus before my first day of classes. And we walked the halls to find the rooms I needed to be in.
It wasn’t fair. You were the one that was supposed to be there celebrating with me! About my degree, about this new information about God. Why would God do this to me? After all I’d been through.
I knew I would have extra time after I graduated so I applied for part-time jobs I could do once my schedule cleared. I finished my last final exam on December 13th and I was scheduled to start my new part-time job in an administrative role at a counseling office on the afternoon of the 14th.
The morning of December 14th I went up to Temple to join Sojourner’s study class. It was a special day. We had been reading Patmos, Baxter Kruger’s new book. And he was going to join us via Zoom to talk about the book and answer any questions we had.
Well things took a turn midway through the meeting. Suddenly Baxter started talking about money. About a time in his life where he was in need of finances and God provided. I was so confused. This had nothing to do with the book. It wasn’t bad information, but why was he telling us this?
I left the study and went directly to my first day at my new part-time job. Just like before, I was determined to power through and make the best of every situation so I arrived all gung-ho. Ready to jump in and change the world for the better.
Well, I had been immensely blessed as a child in that when I was finally able to start seeing a counselor, I sincerely believe God lined up the best. I have never encountered better since.
So it was quite the shock when I started my first day at this new part-time job at this new-to-me counseling office in Converse, Texas. Immediately the vibe was off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until the head counselor, who I understood to be the practice owner, came into the office and started talking about the patients. Using curse words. And ultimately disclosing information shared in confidence during counseling sessions. Information I and the other administrative personnel definitely had no reason to know.
I was in shock! This counselor’s behavior was so bad that it was just CRAZY. She of all people would know better. And yet nobody in the office was speaking up in order to put her in line. You would think she’d at least have enough sense not to do this in front of me – the new girl on my first day. But by the reactions of the others, you could tell talking to her had long since been deemed a lost cause even if they knew better and were burying their heads in their work from embarrassment.
I was in the middle of my training on the computer but I was so shaken by this counselor’s lack of respect for the patients that I asked to go to the bathroom just so I could take a moment to gather myself and pray. This was not only a professional problem; it was also very personal. I had at one time been seated across from counselors. I felt more affinity for the patients than for this woman talking to them.
And so I went to the bathroom to collect myself. To figure out what to do. And while I was there, I looked at my phone since I had an email notification from my full-time job, the one in commercial real estate. The one that had been such a blessing while I was in school. And for having time with you. Because I worked from home and could make my own schedule.
But I didn’t have even twenty-four hours to celebrate finishing my degree because the email I received from work said that my position was terminated immediately. The entire company had gone out of business just like that. Some graduation gift. I stared into the bathroom mirror. “What are you doing, God?”
Now I knew why Baxter had talked about finances that morning. God was preparing me.
I knew I was at a crossroads like so many times before. Like when I decided to leave Manna House without having a place to stay or any income. Or even when I decided to put my foot down with you. Here I was again.
Facing the decision of whether to stay with this part-time job for this counselor who was obviously unethical and unprofessional. Just for the money. For the appearance of some sense of “security”. Or trust God and walk out of a situation I knew was not at all in line with my values.
God had shown off for me over and over before. He would somehow do it again. So I walked out of the restroom and told the woman who hired me that I couldn’t in good conscience stay. And just like that I was completely unemployed. The day after graduating.
I went back to my apartment in shock. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had done all the “right” things. I wasn’t supposed to work so hard for so long and walk away with nothing. It didn’t make any sense.
But the entire prior year, especially after my life changed so much with all the Paul Young and Baxter Kruger stuff, I had been repeatedly asking God for time to write a book. Well, now I had it. The time that is.
So just like with my December 19th idea, I figured I had God figured out. That this time off was my answer to prayer. And specifically somehow I came up with the idea that if I would give God two weeks of working on the book then basically He’d give me everything back: you, the other people who I thought were my friends but who had also rejected me, my church, my career in commercial real estate, etc.
And so I started earnestly. Writing away.
But I wasn’t raised that way. To just blow off time when I could otherwise be making money. Especially when I had no income. So despite all the times that God had shown off for me – and there were many more that I haven’t shared yet – the fears wore me down before the two weeks passed. And I went back to what I knew: applying for jobs instead of doing this silly writing thing. That made more sense, right?
And thus started the five year journey I’ve been on since. A constant push and pull. Wrestling daily with what to do. To write or to work. Every time I’d lean into one, I’d last a few days before the other would call. And zero peace about either. While so many adventures in between. Countless.
But no resolution either way. Despite my best efforts. Round and round the desert.
Once a few years back, I was sitting in the lobby of my building at school when I saw a father with his child way down an empty hall. And I felt Spirit impress, “Pay attention.”
I watched as the little toddler stumbled his way slowly down the hall. The father right behind. Smiling the biggest proudest smile. Not holding onto him but ready to catch him if he started to fall.
Then the little child started to turn down the hall to the faculty offices. The father jumped in front of him and blocked his way. Without saying anything.
The little boy didn’t understand. He kept trying to go around the father to continue down towards the faculty offices, but the father would reposition himself and block the child every time. All without saying anything – as if the child would ever understand. But the father was still smiling the whole time. Not mad, not disappointed, not unhappy.
Finally the child tired of being blocked, turned around, and went back the other way. The father then followed him again. Still smiling, still proud.
And God brought this to my mind over and over again the past five years. Every time I was so frustrated with Him and with not being able to get my way. With nothing working out like I hoped or planned. Door after door seeming to be blocked. No matter where I went.
Me, the Never Give Up girl.
No matter how hard I tried, God wouldn’t let me move on and forget you. Brought you to mind pretty much every day. Along with more and more spiritual revelations.
But every time I tried to see if you were ready to be friends again, you never answered.
Until one day. After yet another lap in the desert. And Spirit brought to mind something you said that seemed to impact you a lot. About how your ex had never tried to reach out and fix things with you.
And then just like so many times before, I felt God challenge me. Because I thought it was weak to need a man. I had taken great pride in never being one to chase. Always Ms. Independent. In fact that was one of the things I liked best to throw back at you whenever we fought: I didn’t keep you around because I needed you.
But after all this time it was clear to me. After all this time of trying to move on. After all the people I’d met and all of the places I’d been. After all the money and all the desired positions. After the most beautiful sunsets and nature views. I only wanted you back in my life. Everything else fell flat without that. Without you. My happiness had never returned since we split ways.
And so I risked it. I finally told you for the first time: I needed you.
Only then did my old Jonathan come back. For the first time since 2017. The one I had known and liked. The one who was so nice to me.
You finally responded. And you called me Sarah Louise. Which you only did when you were being sweet. When you were very happy with me. My middle name. That you told me was also your mother’s.
And then you apologized… for not telling me you got married.
What?!
I was in shock. Why would God set me up like this? That’s the only reason I reached out.
As cruel a joke as any. I couldn’t make sense of it. So many questions. I felt so dumb and foolish.
Why apologize? Why apologize if I never meant anything to you? Why not just say it and move on? Why call me Sarah Louise and apologize for not telling me?
I shaved my head all the way down shortly after. Cut off all my hair and told God, “Fuck You! And fuck all these men You’ve put in my life. Fuck love. Fuck everything.” And I decided to go back to pursuing women. Even called up my exes. And went back to focusing on money instead of stupid love.
More closed doors. Over and over.
Every two weeks the same thought in my mind: maybe if you would have just trusted God and taken those first two weeks to write then everything would have been fixed by now.
And so I’d start again. Meaning so well. Never making it too far before fears creeped back in. And the cycle repeated. Over and over this whole time.
Until I wore myself down so much that I ended up in the emergency room multiple times. The weirdest symptom: my muscles would start involuntarily contracting all over. And one time I fainted in 7-Eleven.
Then Covid hit me twice. And that knocked me completely out. I remember sitting in my car one day and just asking God to end me. I couldn’t take it anymore. Not the physical stuff and not the pain in my heart. All of which seemed to only be getting worse.
It was shortly after another failed emergency room visit. Where they couldn’t figure anything out for me. That I wished so much again that I could talk to you. Like before when you figured out what was wrong with my rib.
You went on and on about health to everyone all the time. These medical “professionals” didn’t give a shit about me, but maybe you would for at least old time’s sake?
I risked reaching out. In weakness versus strength. Very much not my preference. But yet again like before – the only time you seemed receptive. And to my great surprise agreed to meet in person.
But instead of addressing my physical problems, you spent at least the first hour telling me about your new life. Going on and on and on about how happy you were. Yet you were here in the United States without your wife. This man I knew who didn’t let anything stand in his way when he made a decision.
So at some point while you were talking, I asked God what was going on. And then started to wonder you were just trying to convince me that you were happy to try to make me jealous. Like I had unknowingly made you when I followed your advice. When I was succeeding before at life only because you were on my team. Any progress I made was also your success. But you didn’t see it like that back then. You felt left behind. That’s more so why we ended. Why you did what you did.
And so there you were trying to give it back to me in spades. And I admit that before I turned it over to God, I was not liking it at all. But once Spirit gave me peace, the power you were trying to have over me was gone. And I just missed the old us even more. When we were at our best. Reminded of riding around with you for hours while you’d gone on about things.
And then settle down just like you did after you finished telling me everything you seemed to have been saving up for all the time we were apart.
It was sad more than anything. Because we were so close yet so far away. I had wanted this moment of talking to you in person again. For so long. And yet it wasn’t at all going like I wished. And I knew I couldn’t do anything to fix it.
When making me jealous didn’t work, you flipped and started accusing me of sin. Because of my short haircut. Even though I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that your words and actions were the real reason. I just told you that you had no idea what you were talking about.
Tit for tat. You came right back shortly after. A glimpse of my old Jonathan again. Making jokes at my expense. But with that same old audacity that made me laugh more than get offended.
You reached out for a hug before we parted ways. And I was so glad that we ended it on a good note. Better than the time back in May 2017 when we last met in person. With Julie and Taqui there to mediate. Although it ended up going nowhere.
I had hope now. But I was also confused. I couldn’t keep doing this. Keep thinking of you. I wanted to move on either way. With or without. I just wanted it settled.
And I tried. But it was more of the same.
As December 19th approached again I told God I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t wait for you. Or for anymore miracles. I was just going to stick with “reality” – like you had told me to do so many times. When you threw it in my face that I wasn’t “normal”. Like you were any better.
But maybe I should have listened to you long ago. So I told God that I was giving up.
And then I did one last Google search. And found your obituary.
No one ever told me. Maybe they didn’t know how much I still cared. That’s what I tell myself to keep from hating them for it. But overall, I’m glad I didn’t see your body like that. I’m glad my last memory of you is instead our hug.
But, still. God? What on earth are You doing? What was the point of all that happened?
Initially I felt relief. That I wouldn’t be tortured by the what ifs anymore. Now it was settled. See, I had been wrong all along. And that was nothing new. So I could accept being wrong and finally move on. Right?
Until our conversation with Julie and Taqui in 2017 came to mind. Why did I walk away that time? Because of the last thing Taqui said. I heard it as him saying that if we had enough faith then we could raise people from the dead. And when he said that, way back in May of 2017, I got so mad that I ended the conversation and walked away.
But now you, at one point my best friend, were in a grave. Now it meant something. And I almost cursed God.
Fuck. I thought this was all over and I could finally get my mind and heart back. Finally move on. But, no.
I looked it up in the Bible to see if I was out of line. But there it was in black and white: multiple people had been raised from the dead. Undeniable. And the same God then as now. So what was I supposed to do with that?
I spent most of 2022 wrestling with that question. And it settled for me recently.
I was afraid to give up again. Afraid that I was tapping out too soon. Afraid that I wasn’t working hard enough. But I don’t think any of that was ever a question for God. I think They just let me do as many laps around the desert as I insisted on doing until I was satisfied with my own performance. Until I reached the point where I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had tried everything I knew to try. Until I was finally ready to give you to God.
For whatever. For either outcome. And trust His best for me. For you. For everyone. I had to tire myself out in order to come to that point.
One time comes to mind from way back when. We had plans to meet one day. Maybe even you made them. But then a few hours before, you called and told me that you wanted to spend time with your family instead. Friday nights were your usual time with them so I was disappointed you were letting me down, but I didn’t want to keep you from them. Especially if that’s where you wanted to be. So I let you go. And busied myself with something else. Proud of myself for being mature about the situation.
So I was surprised when you called me back about an hour later and told me that you changed your mind. But you said that you decided to hang out with Taqui instead. Asking me if I was okay with that. Really wanting my blessing.
This was cute and amusing to me. Even as I was disappointed. Because we weren’t dating. And more than that, you were a grown man. Much older than me. And you didn’t need my permission. But I graciously gave you the peace you were seeking. And you hung up and I went back to being busy.
But then again you called almost thirty minutes to an hour later. And I was now even more surprised. You said my favorite words that I loved to hear from you: “Do you want to go for a drive?”
“But what happened to hanging out with Taqui or your family?”
“Damnit, Sarah; I feel so codependent with you.” I could tell you were confused by how much you wanted to spend time with me. And it was harder to admit to yourself than to me.
“It’s fine. You can go hang out with them.” And I know you knew I meant it with no underlying passive-aggressiveness.
“No, I want to hang out with you. Do you want to go for a drive?”
That’s one of only a handful of times that I ever trusted God with you. And the result was wonderful.
But the rest of the time I spent trying to keep together something I never even created. You and our time together had always been a gift from God. And I ruined it by thinking it was on me to keep something going which I never started in the first place. It took me all this time to figure that out. Five years.
So this December 14th I am celebrating a different graduation. From the person I used to be. To now trusting you and everyone else to God. Even myself.
This is the first year since 2017 where I do not think it depends on me. I don’t have to stop working and write for two weeks in order for God to bless me. I don’t have to go back to CCSA. I don’t have to trade real estate for teaching. I don’t have to try to go back to Manna House. I don’t have to subject myself to people who have hurt me. I don’t have to fix anything or anyone.
I can do whatever I want. Today and every other day. And trust God for healing however is best. Just be Their kid in that respect. I don’t have to do crazy or hurtful things anymore in order to try to prove my faith or belief.
And there is a lot more to share. Maybe I will tell it all sometime. Even if just as a eulogy – as much as I hate that ending.
But either way I am finally giving me and my story to God. Trusting the outcome to Trinity.
Sarah Nyhan 
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