Are you there, God? It’s Me, Melissa

Faith 9-21-17

Faith…probably one of the most talked about, and argued about, subjects. Well, no, that’s religion but sometimes faith and religion come in a package deal.

For some, faith is going to Church regularly. For others, it’s just talking to God (or whoever you might believe in) when you get a chance. I know my mother shows faith by saying the Novena for St. Theresa, her patron saint. She’s been praying to St. Theresa for as long as I can remember.

Faith and praying have always been very prevalent in my family, especially since I was born ill. My mother spent hours, days, weeks, and months praying for my health and praying that I lived long enough to have a life to live. I was brought up going to religious ed and I said prayers every night before I went to bed. To this day, when we sit down at my Mother’s house as a family, we say our dinner prayer.

But, I’m a little ashamed to say that my own faith has been weak at best. My whole life I’ve heard “God has a plan for you” and “Everything happens for a reason”. Growing up, I was told that there was a bigger purpose for me. That my disability and my surgeries were making me strong and shaping me in a way I didn’t know yet. I “had” to go through these difficulties because I wouldn’t be the person I am today without them.

Or at least I was told something along those lines. I was always told to have faith that things will be okay and the trust in God that he knew what he was doing. That He was going help me get to where I needed to go.

I believed that, one because my mother told me it and, two because I was so sick that I needed something to believe in. I wanted to believe that it was going to be okay and that I was made this way for a reason. I even had invisible friend/guardian angel, Michael (Ironically enough there was an actual archangel named Michael that I didn’t know about) that watched over me.

So, my whole life I was brought up to have faith. To believe that it would all be okay in the end.

Where did my faith go then, you ask?

It disappeared when I was twenty-four years old and found out I couldn’t have children. In fact, i could die if I tried to have children. The moment the words were out of my Doctor’s mouth is the same moment that my faith fell, shattering around me.

I thought, back then, if I had to trust in God to get me through, why was he so cruel to take away the one thing I wanted the most: A family. My family. Anything else I could’ve dealt with; I could’ve fought against. But this?

All I ever wanted was a family. I wanted a man who loved me despite my medical flaws, and children that I could love. I always pictured having a child, or two, and being a normal family despite everything. Graduating from college, getting a job, and having a family were my milestones: If I could get through everything and have that, I would be okay. I would make it.

And that dream, that wish I so desperately had, was ripped away from me and I hated God for it. I was so angry that he put me through hell my whole life, and then made it worse by not allowing me to have a family.

I hated him, and I hated my parents who knew all along that this could happen. I even hated my husband for sticking around even though I basically threw him out the door. I told him to find a woman who could give him a family, like he deserved.

For the four months from when I found out about my predicament, to when I had surgery to tie my tubes so I couldn’t accidentally get pregnant, I cried myself to sleep. I fell into a depression that I struggled to get out of.

And, like I said, I was angry. So, so angry. I didn’t stop believing in God, but i definitely stopped believing that he knew what was right for me. I stopped having faith that things would work out.

Even five years later, my Faith hasn’t come back. I don’t say my nightly prayers anymore and I can’t step into a Church. The last time I stepped into a Church, I think, was for my wedding. And that’s because it’s a family tradition to marry in a Church.

It’s hard to have Faith when everything seems to be falling down around you. When your dreams are extinguished and you don’t know where to go from there.

I would love to get my Faith back, trust me I would. I want to believe that everything is going to work out and it will be okay in the end. I would love to believe that there is a bigger force guiding me and protecting me. I would love to go to Church again.

I just…can’t.

One comment

  1. I’m so sorry in so many ways Melissa. That you have been though so much, that this piled on top, that you are currently in the holding path that you are in. My mom always said the waiting place is the worst place to be, you get stuck and all you see is what you are waiting for. I know you and Andrew are looking down other avenues, and I believe for you that the right outcome will make it’s way to you. I’m sure it sounds pathetic and shallow and you may even be mad at me for commenting when I can’t possibly understand what you’ve been through, but for what it is worth, I will keep faith for you, and I will pray for you and Andrew and the family I know you two would love to have. I will also thank you, for the strength you had to come to church for Emily’s baptism only a year ago.


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