The truth is: I envy those with strong faith. What I wouldn't give to be able to read scripture like this one and find peace in it. To pray to someone or something and place all of my worries into their hands. But I am just not in a place at this point where I can give all of my worries to God and trust His plan for me.
The first thing to rattle my faith was the death of my godmother when I was 18. She was only 48 years old and one of the most loving, pure-of-heart human beings to ever walk the earth. If the God I had learned about all my life really was a loving and just God, how could he take such a wonderful woman so soon?
The next things that rattled my faith were ironically religion and anthropology classes I took in college. Learning about other religions and other people's beliefs made me seriously question if we're all just shooting in the dark, here. Don't get me wrong, I love studying the concept of religion. It fascinates me. If there were any sort of career to be had in it, I would have tried to pursue it. I am fascinated by the similarities and differences across cultures when it comes to faith and religion. Are we all just clinging to the notion of a higher being and an afterlife in order to give our otherwise meaningless lives meaning? Is the belief in an afterlife a bedtime story to help us all sleep at night as opposed to thinking that once we die, we just... die? Or is God a "Santa Clause" figure for adults? Is He there only to give us a reason to behave, in the hopes of achieving an afterlife in heaven not hell? So even in my early twenties I began to question my faith. I didn't decide on becoming an atheist or anything, I just wasn't sure what I believed in anymore.
For the sake of my mother not having a heart attack - and anyone else who may be offended by the things I just wrote - the God I was taught about gave us free will. A huge part of that free will is our own ability to decide for ourselves what we believe in. God wants us to question His existence. I believe that just blindly believing in God because I was told to by my Sunday school teacher does not constitute real faith. If I am, at some point in my life, able achieve true faith, I think God would prefer that I struggle through it and come to an understanding of Him on my own... not just because I was told to.
Anyway, back to where I'm at now. The loss of Dominic had been a complete and utter atom bomb to whatever faith I had left. I am angry at God. I told this to a close friend who was attempting to get me to put my faith in Him. And she made an excellent point. In order for me to be angry at God... some part of me must believe there is a God to be angry at in the first place. Furthermore, to have named my child Dominic because it means "belonging to the Lord," I must deep down somewhere inside me believe in Him. I don't like to give people credit when they're right... but she was absolutely right.
So I've come to the conclusion that I do believe in God, although I don't understand exactly what type of God He is and what His plan is for me. I hope it is in His plan for me to be a mother... cause it's certainly in my plans. And honestly, if it is not in His plan, then me and Him are going to continue to be "not on speaking terms," for quite awhile. In the meantime, I guess I will attempt to find solace in passages like this one in the hope that there really is joy coming.