Serious Lack of Faith

 Serious lack of faith

It’s been a weird day. I woke up to find quite a bit of hair resting on my pillow. Then when I looked in the mirror, a bald spot the size of Milwaukee stared back at me! Odd fact, it’s not even on my radiation site. Oh joy, maybe that’s next.

The funny thing about balding...and I might need to ask some of the men from my graduating class, but maybe balding makes people feel mortal! It’s either that or the fact that I have instant hair loss and what some doctors are calling “terminal cancer.” I’m trying to be funny; did you catch that?

Anyway, already feeling momentarily terrified about death (and before anyone can find a high horse to ride on let me tell you it’s different when you’re actually facing death and not being hypothetical) a friend called to tell me about Christ this morning.

I’ve had many family members talk with me about this. And I’m honestly a bit terrified to write this (because of the judgment and messages I might receive) but I don’t believe Jesus was the son of God.  This happened after my son died. My faith in God grew, but my faith in Jesus diminished. Don’t get me wrong, I WANT to believe in Jesus. I’m doing another study now, hoping I’ll believe again. And although I cherish the Old Testament, and I love God with all of my heart, I can’t wrap my mind around Jesus.

I said this to my friend...and she told me I’m going to Hell. It seems odd, but she said this with love. She really believes that if I don’t accept Jesus, I’m doomed.

After I finished talking with her, I called a confidant who’s in his late ‘80s and has an intellect I really enjoy. We’ve shared quite a few conversations over coffee and he never disappoints, especially when it comes to providing insightful conversation. I told him about my dilemma.

I expected him to call me “Mona,” his nickname for me because he said people want to know why I smile. But he became so serious he didn’t even use the name. He just looked at me with piercing blue eyes and said the following: Don’t worry about it. It’s already figured out.

And I can’t explain why, but the idea of predestination is a bit comforting. It just makes me feel like I need to do the best I can and research. The rest will follow.

So I might not have much hair—and I might not have much faith in the way that woman wants—but I’m trying.

Last note. Mike bought me some hair glue. (This is not meant to glue in hair that has fallen out—thank God.) Instead, it’s used to help me hide the bald spots. Unfortunately, it makes me look like an old man with comb-overs in very odd places. I’m so glad some of my friends bought me scarves and hats. 

Anyway, onto stage two of this whole thing! Hair loss. I cried earlier today, but I’m better now. Bring it!!!