Thank You Jesus

Surprisingly, or not surprisingly, I have had a lesson in prayer and the Spirit recently. Yesterday, I went back to my women’s bible study, which I have not attended for nine years. A friend from church reached out to me in the wake of Steve’s death, and I mentioned to her that I was hoping to find a women’s bible study, and was inquiring if CTK had a current group, the church we attended together for 4 years, and that she still attends to this day. We decided to scrape together a few women, and the nice lady whose house we are meeting at had also expressed a desire to start up such a group. We met yesterday, in the morning, and there were actually five of us. We all seem super committed and pleased to have assembled this group. I suggested we read Acts, and everyone thought that was a great idea.

I have an amazing bible that was handed down to me from my friend from another church who used to attend our bible study years ago. At the time, our group consisted of women from both The Community Church and Christ the King or CTK. This current group seems to be CTK only as of now. The bible is a New King James study bible, and is very thick with tabs for each of the books. I gave away my other three bibles during recent episodes, to a young family who were in need at the time. So, even if those bibles are not currently with them, I hope they found a home where they are of use. I don’t necessarily need four bibles, but there is a sense of loss as two of them were given to me from women in our original group, and one had my name inscribed on it.

I have learned to accept that I have to let some of my personal attachment to belongings go, because I have given gifts of valuable personal items during my episodes. Gift giving is one of my major love languages, so it seems that I was simply reaching out to others while seeking connection and love. This is okay, and I have let many attachments be released as I have sobered up from said episodes and realized all I had given in my psychosis. That being said, if you are out there and received some sort of gift from me, either in the mail or dropped off on your porch, know that my heart is still in it, that I am glad and hopeful in the fact that you may have enjoyed receiving whatever it was that I gave to you. Thank you for not judging me for being strange or weird. If I have learned anything while living with schizoaffective disorder, alcoholism, codependency, and autism spectrum disorder, it is that I am a little bit weird. I believe accepting people who look or act weird is a revolutionary act and works to dismantle the patriarchy.

Back to the original story, after I came home from my bible study yesterday morning, and felt renewed in my Faith, which I desperately need right now, I received a call from my mother saying my dad went down to the bank and spoke to the manager there, and found out that my name actually IS on the account, and that I could have access to the $454 that was left in Steve’s bank account. It was the end of the month, so there wasn’t much, but the bank earlier had sent us to the court house who claimed that to make an estate account, or put it in probate or whatever the technical term may be so that I could have access to Steve’s money, we needed to pay a fine of $400, and that would not include any lawyer costs. So, I had decided to not beat a dead horse, but my father wanted to go down there again and inquire if we could at least request the money be given to a local charity in Steve’s name.

Really, this all made perfect sense to me. And I know that I may have agnostic or atheist friends who read my blog, however, I believe I had given my life over to the Spirit, to Jesus, and along with feeling completely renewed by this connection, Jesus performed a small miracle in my life. To me this fact is undeniable, which strengthens my Faith even more. I needed this. I was getting a little lost in my existentialist view. So here I am, returning to where I last felt sane. Where I last felt connected. Where I last was improving my life and becoming stable (between 2012 and 2016). Nine years have passed, with much searching, with endless self-discovery, with meditation in the woods and in the field at the ancient willow tree, learning the Tarot, working and volunteering at the Library, endless gym hours, attending Quaker meeting and the Episcopal church, cold swimming, six years of AA and one year of Al-Anon, caring for the love of my life and watching him battle cancer and die from it, burying two dogs and a cat, getting my new German Shepherd who was horribly abused for three years about a year and a half ago, watching and loving my niece as she grew up to the age of ten, writing endlessly on my blog and publishing a book on mental illness, composing a third manuscript, healing and developing an awesome friendship with my mother, and surviving four major episodes.

I can’t believe that I have finally found the shore. But here I am, learning to live alone, while the desperation I felt around losing Steve and an existential quandary about heaven, led me strait into the doors of Jesus. I attended CTK last Sunday, and it is at 11am at the perfect Center Church, a small old church on a hill surrounded by a cemetery above the valley of my family farm of 36 years. As I sat in the church last Sunday and waited for people to arrive, I gazed out the window and shed a tear over the fact that I wanted to marry Steve in this church one day. We never did marry, and I have cried many tears of regret over this fact. But we were married. We were marred in the eyes of God during almost 28 years of love and happiness together in union. Bless you Steve, my love. I can do this. I can do this. Please watch over me, but my renewed Faith is reminding me you are truly at peace in heaven. I do not want to question anymore. I am tired. I have been swimming a long time, and I needed to be reminded that it is not up to me. To truly hand it over. Thank you, Jesus.