He Hears And Answers

God sends dreams to seraphs and whatsapp to cherubs.

And they've been nothing but angels to me.

Once again, it proves that He's been listening.

For the past few weeks, I haven't been feeling the best. Moody, mopey, with the thoughts of "life sucks" swirling around. I know the main reason for me feeling that way. It's a fear, really. Fear of being alone.

(Having colleagues that quit no sooner than you learn their surname does bad things to one's mental health. Also, having no weekends to go out and meet friends is a downer.)

Yesterday night, I got a teammate to drop me off at a bus stop after training, and only after waiting for 15 minutes did I realise the usual bus has changed its route. It no longer stops at the bus stop I was at. So, I picked up my bag and walked. Could've gotten a cab, but nah, thought it would be nice to walk.

And so I did.

Along the way, I talked to The Man Upstairs. God, please, show me your vision for me. Let me hear your voice and guide me to where I should be. God, why am I behaving like an angsty teenager, with so much sadness inside of me? God, what have become of me? Why do I constantly get stuck in the past, unable to move on? And God, I know it was my own foolishness that brought all this. I know it shouldn't be on You to remove this burden, but you are so wonderful and selfless, that I know I can count on you.

As I walked, I could feel my heart swirling as I poured out my emotions.

I've never been so emotionally affected before- and it isn't because of food. It's a million and one little insignificant things which collide and burst into a huge fireball of unwanted anxiety, self-doubt and low confidence.

But I believe that He's always there. It felt like He was stretching his hand out, beckoning me. "Child, take my hand and I'll pull you out." It's just that, somehow, I've become a whiny spoilt brat. "No, Father. Let me indulge in my self-loathe. Let me feel sorry for myself for being this way."

I finished the walk home with a soft "Amen."

This morning, I woke with the same ideas in my head. I hugged my bolster tight, hoping it would transport me to yesteryear. Of course it didn't, and I went to work. Out of nowhere, Felily sent a whatsapp message.

"I dreamt of you. How are you!"

"Not so good..." and I began to lament about my black hole state. It was comforting. Joyce, too, far away in Australia, have been praying for me.

And it reaffirms the truth that He's always, always here for me. No matter what.

Maybe my blog heading "Refine me, Lord, through the flame" is really a hard process.

Pray for me, and I'll surely get through.

Amen.