I don't know the purpose of prayer anymore, so I've stopped praying. I wanted so much to do God's will, but I don't think He revealed it. And worse yet, now I wonder if there is a God. If not, my life has no purpose whatsoever. I am a body with no soul, a space holder on Planet Earth, a nobody. Each day is just walking a treadmill until sleep . . . to start over.

FEW WEEKS AGO I found the journal in which I had written those anguished words 18 years ago. I wished I could reach over the gulf of time, hug that younger version of myself, and tell her that she was going to be OK. That she would change dramatically in the years to come and that much of that change would be painful, but in the end, she and her husband and children would emerge stronger and better.

But since time travel is of movies, not reality, I could not tell her. And I knew as I read her journal for the first time in 18 years that she had a long, rough road ahead.

My husband, David, had lost his job in Connecticut, and I had prayed without ceasing that he would find another position locally so that we could keep our home. It was a small Cape Cod with one bathroom, simply furnished with secondhand furniture. But the low mortgage afforded me the freedom to work flexible, part-time hours and be the kind of mother I wanted to be to our two young daughters. During their preschool years I worked evenings and devoted my days to reading to them, sewing their clothes, keeping them on napping and eating schedules.

When they started school, I switched to hours that matched theirs so I could be home to hear the stories of their classroom, to supervise the neighborhood kids who gathered in our backyard to build a clubhouse, to read to them some more. On Friday nights we had our cozy rituals of special meals, soft music, and stories around the fireplace.

I had no aspirations of a career outside the home. Motherhood and homemaker defined me.

A Fork in the Road
But when David lost his job, all of that changed. He sent out hundreds of résumés in the local area, to no avail. Finally, months into his fruitless search, he widened his scope to Massachusetts and landed a job outside Boston. Even though every fiber of my being objected to the move, I chose to be supportive, and did not voice my concerns until later.

When the girls were 10 and 11, we moved from suburbia to city, from a house on a side street to an apartment on Main Street, from one and a half salaries being enough to two salaries barely tying the ends together, from a mother who was there to a mother who was tired beyond what sleep could replenish.

When I unpacked the boxes on the other end, I discovered that my identity hadn't made it across the state line. I was a mother weaned from my task too early, aborted into the world of full-time work prematurely, left with the serrated edges of an umbilical cord sawed off without concern.

Sliding deep and fast into a depression, I sought the help of a Christian counselor. For days I cried and begged him for answers. "Why didn't God answer my prayer? Couldn't He have found one measly job in Connecticut? Where was He in all of this? Where is He now? Why? Why? Why?"

Perhaps the counselor tired of my fixation with the why of it all. One day he wearily leaned forward in his chair, looked me directly in the eyes, and asked, "Who do you think you are that the God of the universe would have changed the course of history for you?"

His question brought me up short. I must admit that my faith for the first 35 years had been rather childlike. I thought that I prayed, and God--because He loved me and made me in His image and because I always tried to make the best decisions to live in His will--would watch out for me. I did think I was somebody, that I had an "in" with God.

Another Question
That's the night I went home and wrote in my journal. I knew the answer to the counselor's question. God had ignored me, so I must be a nobody.

Questions for Reflection or for Use in Your Small Group 1. What has been the hardest experience you, as an individual or as a family, have had to endure? What were some of the emotions you experienced? 2. What person or event led you to see the experience from a different perspective? How did that help change your attitude about God? 3. When people you know experience some life-changing situations, which is more important, information or moral support? 4. If you wanted to support someone in their grief, depression, or discouragement, how would you go about it? List at least five strategies.

During the move I lost much of the sense of who I was and I nearly lost God in the middle of it. Gradually, little by little over the intervening 18 years, I have repositioned myself as a mother, become more vocal in the marriage, worked hard at a number of jobs, and redefined my spirituality.