My Faith & My Writing

It seems these two come hand in hand.

I went through a rough period a few months ago. I lost all ambition- through literature and through life itself. When I awoke, I saw the same grey clouds, drowning out my energy. No longer existed the sing-songy sun praising my highest achievements and calling for more and more. I picked up the pen. I put down the pen. I dressed nicely. I longed to go back to sleep. I ran mindlessly around town. I felt without a purpose. I saw the rest of the world. They couldn't see me.  Most would have diagnosed me with depression, but I like to think of it as the day I died- spiritually.

I needed to be reborn.

Stumbling onto the floor, I clasped my hands together and whispered through the sobs, "Father God, I need You more now than ever. I don't have any motivation. I hate myself. I hate everything I've done. I can't do the same things that made me happy. I feel nothing at all anymore. Please...just help me be the person I once was. In Your name..." I didn't stop the tears; they arrived as if through a broken pipe. "Amen."

Little did I know that God was planning everything. He already created the future, my destiny. He just needed me to hold on and not do anything stupid. Knowing me, this wouldn't be simple.

I can still remember how sweet those rose tulips smelled. The beaming sun helped not only the plants  but my heart grow twice the size of the moon. Alone on this journey I traveled. Looking at the swaying tree branches, how the leaves traveled simultaneously, I was becoming one with nature. With each step I was becoming anew- bigger and stronger. 

"Mom!" I bellowed, throwing open the front door. I charged up the stairs, ignoring her curious greeting. The Hulk, I slammed my bedroom door behind me and plunged onto my oak wood desk. My hands groped its exterior. "Oh, have I missed you..."