Sparkling Escapades Abroad with the Fairy Bra Mother

They said to ask You
to show me Your love.
Like that’s easy.
Like I haven’t been asking my whole life
without knowing I was.
So here it is—
not pretty,
not faithful-sounding,
not wrapped in church words.
If You love me,
I need more than silence.
More than lessons.
More than “one day you’ll understand.”
I’m tired of being strong.
Tired of surviving things
I never signed up for.
Tired of wondering
if I’m the problem You keep correcting.
I want to believe You love me,
but love that always hurts
starts to feel like punishment.
And the truth is—
I don’t even know what it looks like.
I don’t know what to expect
or how You’d show me.
I just know I need something, Lord.
I’m too tired
and too crushed
to go looking for anything anymore.
I don’t know if You’ll show me
in an hour,
or a day,
a week,
a month,
a year,
or several years—
but here I am.
Waiting.
If You answer,
don’t make me decode it.
Don’t hide it in suffering
and call it growth.
Show me in a way
that doesn’t require faith
I don’t have left.
Meet me where I am—
frayed,
angry,
aching,
still breathing but barely.
I’m not closing the door.
I’m just sitting on the floor
with my back against it,
too tired to knock.
If love is still for someone like me,
prove it.
Not loudly.
Not perfectly.
Just real enough
that I can’t explain it away.