This morning I was invited to go to the juvenile detention center and share a message with the youth. My companion shared with them a story about having the faith of a mustard seed.
It brought me back to a time in my life when I'm not even sure I had that much (or that little) faith.
As much as a mustard seed.
But I remember wanting to.
Being desperate for assistance and answers.
Needing to know.
It was a time when all I could do was to get through each day, actually some days it was each hour and sometimes literally from minute to minute.
It was a time I felt so alone, and terrified that I couldn't do it.
I couldn't do this "life" thing that I was expected to live.
It was just too much.
So I started to give up.
And I wondered what I was even doing here.
You know, in this life, flailing, when there were others who were eager and way more deserving, losing their heroic battle they were so diligently and honorably fighting.
I felt like a thief- of precious space and air of others- who were way more worthy than me.
Frantically, as a last resort, I utilized what small particle of faith I had, and asked, well, begged for help.
I needed to know that there was a God and that I could and would get help to do this "assignment" given me here on this Earth- to be a mother and raise His children.
To use my heart and gifts in the way He intended me to.
So I prayed for the knowledge that I was not alone, and that I could do this "game of life".
And it came.
Slowly but consistently.
And that tiny seed grew until, although I wasn't as stellar as I would have liked, I did it.
With a lot of help!
And that reckless desire has manifested itself, years down the road, in children I am proud to
have been entrusted with, with a joyous, full mustard-seeded-heart!
"At the point where hope would otherwise become hopelessness, it becomes faith." ~Robert Brault, rbrault.blogspot.com