Dear God,

I’ve put off writing this letter for a long time – and to be honest, I’ve dreaded writing it all day. You see, I’m afraid of what will happen when I completely open up and put pen to paper. I’m afraid I will fall apart. I’m afraid I’ll get messy. I’m afraid this mask and wall that I’ve built around myself for the last 25 years can’t stand up to the scrutiny. What if you see through my pretend? What if you see me – the real me- and decide that I’m a fraud and that I’m not good enough. What if who I thought I was isn’t who I really am? What then?

These past two years, God you know they have been so tough. I know that in the big picture of the world, my problems are small problems – but that doesn’t make my pain any less – it doesn’t stop the hurt from still echoing within me. When he told me he couldn’t love me – it hurt so bad. And I was angry. I was angry at him and angry at you for letting me love him and letting this happen. I know that there are things that you do that I will never understand but this whole hurt thing – it’s really frustrating. Just so you know.

And sometimes, sometimes it feels like you aren’t even there. I mean, my problems are so small – I’m not going hungry, I’m not physically hurt or ill, I’m not fearing for my life or grieving a death – does my hurt even matter? Do you see me? Me – the 25 year-old single girl who tries to hide her own hurt as she watches all her peers get engaged and then married? Me – the girl who often feels inadequate when compared to others. Me – the good girl with so many questions she’s afraid to ask. Me- the girl who has followed the rules but still feels like she’s losing. Do you see me?

There are times when I clearly see you at work in my life – where I see your hand clearly. I’ve seen you open doors I never knew existed and plant dreams I didn’t know I had. I know, deep down, that all the pain, the hurt, the longing, and the questioning is not in vain – that they will lead to something. But “something” scares me. It’s so hard to give up control – to accept that my life and my hopes and my plans may not be your plans. It’s hard to see the platinum when you’ve got gold in your hand. It’s hard to leave the comfortable for the unknown.

How do I deal with it all, God? How do I deal with my brokenness? with the brokenness I see all around me? How do I give up my things and follow you? What would you have me do?

You know those sweet children you brought into my life through Compassion – well I tell them all the time that they are important to you. That you have great plans for them. That they matter. And I fully believe it – for them. But I struggle to believe it for me.

Do you have a plan for a good girl who tries desperately to fit in? For a girl who has some serious pride issues and a hard time eating her serving of humble pie? Do you have a plan for me? Do I matter?

I want to matter. I want to be loved and comforted. I want to have the faith that my sponsored children have – to fully and totally rely on you. Is that possible for me? Will I ever know that? Do I really – I mean really – want to know how that feels…. no. I want to have that faith but avoid the pain that it takes to get there. My Emily, my Helen, my Josue – they MUST depend on you, there is no option. And while there is no option for me either, sometimes it seems like there is. I have enough – I have more than enough. I do not know the fear and worry that comes with poverty. And that is a blessing – and that is a curse.

But you, you are still working on me. Even now I feel you tugging at my heart – rearranging my thoughts, showing me blessings in ugliest of places. Never would I have believed that 3 children in South America would capture my heart so completely. Never would I have believed that I could make a child so far away feel loved and special. That $38 a month – you knew I would not miss it – you knew it was for these kids even before I did – and you were right. I do not miss the money and I cherish the kids.

Thank you.

Thank you for bringing me through the storms and hard times, for providing for me and my family so we can provide for others, for allowing me to sponsor, and connecting me with amazing sponsor children, for putting key people in my life to teach me valuable lessons – both good and bad – for using me, for shaping me, and for loving me.

Especially for loving me. Thank you for loving me through all my questions – I told you it would get messy – even as I write this I can hear your answers for me. I know you are there. I know I matter – but sometimes, sometimes I just need to hear it from you.

Thank you for loving me – the broken me, the prideful me, the timid me hiding behind the mask of good. Please continue to help me follow the path you have for me, even when it hurts, even when I can’t see the destination, help me to be a faithful follower and leave the leading up to you.

Love,
Emily