Hi my peeps!I have missed you totally and completely. I did not write for Scintilla yesterday and am ok with that. But I also missed it. My week has has been good so far, just work and a magical night yesterday with someone special (my hands shook when I wrote that). Am grateful. And it is time to let you into my life a little more through Scintilla. Today its all about faith.
Prompt: 2. Talk about an experience with faith, your own or someone else’s
Faith is defined as confidence or trust in a person or an entity. I just had to get that definition because some of the meanings we give to words are personal and do not necessarily reflect the well-known meaning.
Am out of words when it comes to describing my faith but I have had experiences that proves that my belief in something bigger than me supports me as I go about life.
I went to boarding school at 8 years of age. I am barely five feet now, so you can imagine how tiny I was at 8. I was so small, my classmates used to call me Millie tiny. I accepted it because I knew I was tiny, no doubt about it, no arguments. However, the problem was not with my body size, it was with my homesickness.
I felt as if I was being tortured. Being away from my parents was so scary. I constantly told my mother that I did not want to go back to school. She said I would outgrow it and eventually I did but it took so much from me.
I started finding ways of attracting my parents attention. I started pretending to be sick. Even when I was actually sick, I pretended to be feeling really, really bad. This earned me trips home, many of them. My mother was getting tired of it and she knew it was more than just physical sickness.
She took me to a counselor. I remember it was a woman. She talked to me. She told me that I could open up to her. That she would keep my secrets confidential. I told her everything. How I hated school, how I missed my parents, how I wanted to go home. She told me that my parents were doing it for me. That the school I went to was the best and all they wanted was for me to succeed. She spoke my language, I was a child and I felt understood. For once, someone took time to actually listen.
I remember, how she asked if I believed in God. I remember how she told me that God was always there for me, whenever I needed to talk. She told me that whenever I felt the urge to go home, I could just talk to him and ask for whatever I needed. Eventually, I believed her and I started praying. The pretense sickness ceased and it felt so good to have someone who always watched over me. I believed that he watched over my parents too and there was no need for me to go home and check on them myself.
This is my faith. I believe in God. Not in an obnoxious kind of way but in a more personal, day by day way.He walks with me and I place my confidence and trust in Him.