My sister wrote this blog a few days ago. She really has an amazing way of putting what many of us feel into words, so take a look at more of her writing.
Packing my Things
I reach for our greyish suitcase, right in the back of our downstairs cupboard. I have had enough and I will put all the things that remind me of my stupid commitment to a God who does not seem to know His job description very well into this luggage and throw it somewhere into the cellar below our kitchen.
These things include the many hours I could have slept instead of getting up early and reading, praying and chatting to this God. Tsss, I have even written about how wonderful these early hours are not very long ago. It also includes the future Sundays I will use to sleep in or do some gardening or read or …anything, really, instead of tottering off to church, worshipping this God, who does not even seem to be aware of my desperate disappointment in Him!
I am not quite sure how I will do this whole parenting thing without Him, to be fair. My boys seem to believe that there is a loving God out there and I don’t have the heart to tell them, that I was mistaken all along.
Also, I am not quite sure how I will do the whole being- married- when- I- don’t- feel- like- it thing. I realise that the moments when I could have thought of many, many reasons to be resentful and bitter towards my husband, were turned into moments of forgiveness and joyful reconciliation only because we managed to pray and acknowledge that Jesus died for both of us, both equal sinners and desperately in need to be saved.
I stop my feverish packing.
I sit on our sofa. The suitcase is standing next to me.
It dawns on me that by packing this greyish bag I have actually removed all colour from my life.
Feeling hopeless is painful.
Feeling sad and angry tears at my heart.
But I realise that the worst thing that could ever happen to me would be to become Godless.