God, don't help me.

*Written 7/22/15, unedited*
Well, I'm writing from the hospital again. Maybe I'll make that my thing...they say your blog needs something to make it unique. How about only posting from the hospital? I have a sneaking feeling the visits are going to become more frequent, so might as well.

Ok, enough sarcasm. 

Our church has been doing a series on prayer. This past week was about not asking God to help us. Seems weird, right - to not ask God for help? But think like this, when we ask someone for help what are we really saying? We're saying, "I've got 70, you take 30. I've almost got this, I just need a little something extra to get me there."

Reality check: you don't got this. We are incapable. 

I'm not saying this to be negative, or disheartening. I'm saying it because it's a truth I learned the hard way. I spent a good ten years asking God to help me through the pain of my dad's loss. I would say, "I know I can get through this; I just need you to help me." I prayed and prayed for strength and courage and healing when I should've been praying for the strength to let it go, the

*4/29/18*
Looking back, I can honestly say the only way I got through the past few years was by letting go. I don’t ask for God’s help anymore. I tell him I can’t, and I ask for him to get me through it.

Since then there have been good days; there have been great days. There are also days that I can’t get through the pain of not having my mom. There are days I can’t get through the struggle of being a mom. The difference is now I know I don’t have to; I give it to him - my pain, my struggles, my triumphs, and my failures - and He gets me through it.