A call to come and die. I have received it. Not well at first but now I carry this calling with me wherever I go. I can’t recall a time I didn’t believe in the creator of the universe and the holy Trinity or a time that Jesus hadn’t died for my sins. But I can remember when there was no understanding of what being a follower of Christ meant for me. Not the full weight of it. I though it meant Jesus and I were buddies and that He was supposed to make things better if I was good. I don’t know that I knew I believed that, but I did. I thought being a Christian was supposed to make me happy.

I started therapy at five. I can’t remember why. I am sure my mother could tell you. She told me once people wanted to take me away…