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Father, I know you feel this.  I know you feel it just as much as I do.
And so you feel it more-- because everybody feels this way sometimes, all 8 billion of us.
And so
I truly believe
That You must have some purpose
Some plan
Some grand design
That could not be accomplished without my pain.
Not that pain is the goal—not that You created hate, fear, death for their own sake—
Maybe pain is a necessary byproduct of growth.
I know that if there were an easier, faster way to do this, You would take it.
If You could just put us there, in Heaven, at the end of the seventh day, You would.
But it’s like me, when I watch Casey, and Dorothy, and Suz, and I wish so much that I could just put all the things that got me from thirteen to twentyfive in them, so they could get there without the confusion and the danger that go with life—and yet I know that I can’t live for them, and some falls you just have to take on your own.
That must be what You feel as you watch Your creation—somehow, letting us hurt and die and kill and get sick and make mistakes must be necessary for the world to grow into whatever amazing thing it’s going to be when it grows up…and somehow, for whatever reason, things wouldn’t turn out the same, wouldn’t be as magnificent, if You lived this shit for us.
I trust You.
I really do.  Whatever this is going to be, it must be a real knockout—it’s been something like 4 billion years in the making (and counting)…
And I accept the fact that my life is not the be-all and end-all of this design.
I may not get a happy ending.
That’s ok, God.  I accept that.
I really do.  For better or for worse, I want to be part of this grand design, whatever it may be.
I offer You my life:
My thoughts, my pain, my strength, my stake in the lives of those I love
Take it, use it…
Make something really, really special.
Not that You really need the invitation… I suspect that all things are part of Your grand design, even resistance.
But I also suspect that maybe, wherever we’re going, we’ll get there faster if we cooperate, and the finished product will be more beautiful if the raw material is strong and pliable.
So I offer my pain to You
And I offer You my joy
This deep and abiding joy that fills me to the hollows of my bones when I think of Your creation.
We’re learning, Lord.
We fuck up every day, and we’re a misshapen, roiling lump to the naked eye,
But someday, we’ll be a masterpiece.