Where I stand
Where I Stand
Where I Stand
Growing up in a spiritual family I have always known that there was a God. A stronger power that had everything I needed. A God that was born of a virgin, suffered, died and rose on the third day after his death. This God was who we prayed to, trusted and told our deepest secrets to, knowing no one would find out about them. I was taught to pray and ask and whatever I asked for would be given to me according to his riches and his will. Growing up I did not know what these statements meant, however I did not go against them. We were taught to never question God, he knows what’s best for us and we should fear (respect) him. While growing up I never went against these teaching, as I grew up I came to my own understandings.
My mother taught me the ritual prayer for children to repeat at night. I would say this prayer every night on my knees, eyes closed and hands clasped in front of me. This was a ritual every night. Yet, I would hear my mother praying all throughout the day. While at church I would see people praying and getting emotional while praying. I never had that experience during the night when I would pray. I wanted to feel the feelings that I witnessed in church and while I would see my mother praying. When I asked my mother about praying she advised me to be careful what I pray for because everything we want may not be good for us or what God has in store for us. Still I wanted to be a praying child.
While in church on Sunday, I went to the alter to pray, I was 9 years old. My dad had been in prison for many years. He was going before the parole board. I wanted my dad home with my mom and I. I prayed like I heard the other adults pray. My prayer was emotional and heartfelt. I felt good after my prayer. I did not tell anyone about my prayer. I waited to see what God was going to do. He did just what He said He would do. He answered my prayer. My dad came home.
Where I Stand
Growing up in a spiritual family I have always known that there was a God. A stronger power that had everything I needed. A God that was born of a virgin, suffered, died and rose on the third day after his death. This God was who we prayed to, trusted and told our deepest secrets to, knowing no one would find out about them. I was taught to pray and ask and whatever I asked for would be given to me according to his riches and his will. Growing up I did not know what these statements meant, however I did not go against them. We were taught to never question God, he knows what’s best for us and we should fear (respect) him. While growing up I never went against these teaching, as I grew up I came to my own understandings.
My mother taught me the ritual prayer for children to repeat at night. I would say this prayer every night on my knees, eyes closed and hands clasped in front of me. This was a ritual every night. Yet, I would hear my mother praying all throughout the day. While at church I would see people praying and getting emotional while praying. I never had that experience during the night when I would pray. I wanted to feel the feelings that I witnessed in church and while I would see my mother praying. When I asked my mother about praying she advised me to be careful what I pray for because everything we want may not be good for us or what God has in store for us. Still I wanted to be a praying child.
While in church on Sunday, I went to the alter to pray, I was 9 years old. My dad had been in prison for many years. He was going before the parole board. I wanted my dad home with my mom and I. I prayed like I heard the other adults pray. My prayer was emotional and heartfelt. I felt good after my prayer. I did not tell anyone about my prayer. I waited to see what God was going to do. He did just what He said He would do. He answered my prayer. My dad came home.