Prayer Reflex

I prayed this morning.  It was spontaneous, without thought, and completely fear induced.  I use that word a lot:  fear.  Sometimes, I think I should have it tattooed across my forehead...right next to the "Mike Rowe Is My Husband, He Just Doesn't Know It Yet" tattoo below my right eye.  Fear seems to guide everything I do.  I wake up with it and go to bed with it.  It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when I'm not really thinking about it...a reminder, I guess, just in case I thought for a few seconds I could be normal. What does all that have to do with the praying?  Not only did I wake up with the taste of fear on my tongue..it was a full course meal complete with soup, salad, and those little tomatoes no one ever eats.  So, I prayed.  It was reflex and just a little sad.  Why do I only pray when I'm scared?  I often wonder what God thinks about it.  "There she goes again".  How can I expect him to be there for me when I'm not there for him?  I know..I know.  He's God.  He loves us no matter what but that doesn't mean we shouldn't expect more from ourselves. 

So, I sit here with the same knot in my stomach I've had for days now wondering what I'm supposed to do.  It's so easy to pledge to change....to "earn" God's mercy and help.  The actual doing...not so much.  I don't want my life to be a mere series of panicked episodes and sporadic redemptions.  I want it to be a path, crooked though it may be, of me at least try to go somewhere.   But right now, I've lost my map, I'm out of water, and there's an annoying blister on my toe.