God in the Closet

God,

I am in the closet again.

I think this is the best place to find you. In the dark. Perhaps you won't notice my flaws. I turn off the lights in hopes you don't notice them. Because in the light of day, they are all I see.

The thing is. I am lost. Hopelessly lost. Not lost like the little guy in a Dr. Seuss book, because that little guy eventually found his way. Yes, he did indeed. 98 and ¾ percent success guaranteed.

But, I am lost. I am lost in a way that books or maps or old fashioned ingenuity will not be of benefit. I am lost in a way that is black in its murkiest form. It's lost in a way that has no definition but lost.

I am outwardly fairly put together. I have always done what is expected, moved through the course of this life in a way that society examines and approves. I have had many people say, "You make this look easy."

But if they could only see me in this closet.

Surely, God, this is not what you imagined for me. This drudgery of day in and day out. I cannot fathom that my God would fashion any of for this for His beloved. His inheritance. Did you know most people don't think about this at all? That the drudgery is enough. I am on an island, it seems, longing for something more, something on which I can't place a black and white label. I know this longing only as a physical, palpable pain that I pack up and take with me everyday, like an item in my lunch bag. It is a portable pain, like a hard, bitter apple. It's the thing I never eat, but always bring along.

God, I am not asking for you to change anything. I am not asking for a way out. It's just You and me in the closet, fumbling about among disheveled pairs of khakis, and I want to be as honest as possible in this stripped down place. This space of absence. Although, now, I think I have accidentally placed my foot in the dirty laundry basket.

God, I am hurting. Hurting in a way that no one sees. And that is OK, for them, but not for You. You have always known me, right? Before I was ever conceived, right? You had a plan for me, didn't You?

Didn't You?

I am not in a position to question the Creator of the Universe. You wield the galaxies like swords and drop stars through the sky just to see children marvel. I get that. I imagine You opening your arms and embracing the expanse of space, like taking up a loving child. But, God, I am just a piece of dust, not even that, on the fabric of the universe, but I am hoping You will see me, and just pick me up on the tip of Your holy finger, and squint at me, and think: this one. This tiny bit of one, needs Me.

Again, I am not asking for my life to change, or for you to drop a big, glowing red arrow into my living room to point me in the right direction. Actually, I would LOVE a big red arrow, but that might be a little impractical. All I want right now is Your comfort.

Here, in the dark, I would like Your comfort. Enter this place and envelop me in Your capable arms. My Father, I need your comfort; take the bitter apple from my lunch bag and replace it with Your peace.

My children are banging on the closet door. They are inquiring, "Mom, are you in there AGAIN?" I do find myself in here a lot. But, God, I need you a lot. Consider my request? I would much rather pack a big slice of Your love in my lunchbox any day and ditch the apples.

Your forever faithful servant,
me