I feel a little as if God has left me, stranded in the wilderness, beating snakes away with my two bare hands. After my fun, faith filled, ambulance ride last week I was taking back into hospital. Once more in unbearable pain, once more holding back the anguished tears so I didn't upset my toddler, once more pumped full of drugs. The cause of my pain? Unknown. I prayed, harder than ever, for a simple answer, to know what had happened, what was broke. But apparently, I'm just not meant to know.
The Devil is whispering harder than ever ' He doesn't love you.' 'He doesn't care.' and even ' He doesn't even exist'. Lies. I know He loves me, I know He cares and I most certainly know He exists. But right now, I don't need a Christian answer to my negativity. I need someone to hug, to tell me, yes it was shit, but you can eat cake now, and to feed me aforementioned cake. To fill my half empty glass up with the Holy Spirit and to give me a strong pair of snake wrangling gloves. I need my Christian support. And I really need a twix.
End.
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