God doesn’t speak to me.
God doesn’t speak to me. It’s easy to think this when we’re spinning. We feel alone + afraid. Maybe we’re trying to control our emotions, but past traumas have a way of dragging us under. And we’re trying to stop, but it’s hard. It’s hard to stop ourselves from going back to old patterns.
missing out.
I used to think I was missing out on something by not being raised in a Christian home. The evangelical world taught me this — in their language, in their judgment, in the look on their faces. I felt unwhole, broken, kind of scrapped together, when I sat in a room with people who had grown up in the crowning family.
