Oh, and God... - by Evie

I tell God everything.I tell Him about that mean girl in my street who didn’t respond to my greeting, the guy whose nickname for me always makes me smile, the little thing that made me laugh during the day, the things that annoyed me, the times I have bad days, and the thoughts I probably wouldn’t say out loud to anyone else. I tell Him about my hair that’s in the middle of transitioning to virgin hair and how I’m just hoping it cooperates🤧. I tell Him about my Substack with the 13 subscribers I have, and how I’m still showing up anyway, hoping my writing brings smiles, clarity, joy, purpose an meaning to everyone who stumbles on it. I tell Him about my Android Itel phone(that delights in lagging the moment I attempt to do something meaninful😩), that I’d love to trade for an iPhone so badly especially for the sake of my video content, but the money just isn’t there right now. I tell Him about my IG followers stuck at 100 followers for months, and how I still spend 3 hours editing my videos to post still. I tell Him about my CGPA that’s doing well, but can still do better sha. I tell Him about my future husband—the one I may or may not have met yet.(Oh God, don't let me goann mistakenly friendzone my husband oo😩). And I tell Him about the little things I’m hoping for in him: that he’ll listen to me, pamper me, cook for me, wouldn't mind doing his laundry without making me feel like it's MY responsibility and duty as his wife, do silly things with me like dancing in the rain, listen to me when I yap on and on about the mean lady at the store who grabbed the remaining bread on the tray despite seeing I was reaching for it already, listen to me patiently when I launch into a full description of my newly finished book, and maybe even reassure me as many times as possible when I ask him if he would marry me if I were a rock, cat….or book. I tell God everything. Literally. Sometimes, I have beautiful words for Him. Other times, I have absolutely nothing beautiful to say. Sometimes I have tons of things to say to Him. Other times, I struggle to put my words together and just end up just sitting with Him in silence. Sometimes I know exactly what I want to pray. Other times, it is just, “God, I don’t understand this but I trust you anyway.” Sometimes I come to Him full of gratitude. Sometimes I come confused. Sometimes I am excited and have a hundred things to tell Him. Sometimes I am just tired and all I can manage is, “Father, I’m tired.” And I love that I can. I love that I don't have to compose myself before I come to God. I don’t have to find the perfect words or pretend I have everything figured out. I can come exactly as I am; confused, happy, frustrated, excited, afraid, grateful, and sometimes just plain silly. I can tell Him about the things that seem insignificant because, to me, they aren't. I can tell Him what I’m thinking, even when I’m still trying to make sense of it myself.<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/file_0000000077ac82439939da24a9495898.png"/> There is something deeply comforting about knowing that God doesn't only want my polished prayers. He wants me. Just plain boring flawed unfiltered me. Not the version of me that knows exactly what to say. Not the version that has everything together. And sometimes I don’t tell Him anything at all. I just sit. No words, no requests, no explanations.Just me and Him, in the quiet. And somehow, that counts too.Because even my silence is a kind of prayer, and even when I have nothing to bring, He still leans in to listen. And the wild part is, He answers back.Not always with thunder or quick answers that'll magically fix everything.Sometimes with peace that suddenly hits me at 2am when I'm frustrated and tired. Sometimes with a memory that makes me smile and remember His past goodness to me. Sometimes with the strength to get through one more ordinary Tuesday. Sometimes He just stays with me in it, in the quiet, in my silliness, in my talkativeness, in my ordinariness and that ends up being enough. There are even days I forget to talk to Him.Days I get busy, distracted, or just assume He might be annoyed because I haven't spoken to Him in a while. But He's always there anyways and doesn't make start all over again. I can pick up right where I left off, mid-thought, mid-mess, and it’s still, “Come here, child. Tell me everything.” And perhaps that is what I love most about talking to God. It feels less like delivering a perfect or flawless speech and more like coming home. So, yes, I tell God everything. The big things. The little things. The things that make sense. The things that don't. I simply talk to my Father. Unfiltered. Just as I am. Oh, and God... there's this new guy I like. He's smart, kind, He loves you also, and I think I smile a little too much when he talks to me…

Other insights from Evie

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons