Let me tell you a story ....

Author's note: This is a tough story with some strong themes, including an attempt at suicide. Please read with care

Let me tell you a story.

I think those are among the most wonderful phrases in the world. With just those six words, a person can be prepared to be transported to another world, or another time, or feel like a fly on the wall of a real life event.

Which kind of story is this one? Well, let me tell you, and you can judge.

My story starts when I was about sixteen years old, and I was not doing all that well.

I had been struggling with my gender for as long as I could remember, but it seemed like lately I could not fight any more, and cross-dressed whenever I could. Finally, I had reached a point where I wondered where my faith in God had gone, and having prayed to have this need taken from me for years without an answer, I reached the conclusion I was a lost cause.

This led me to having a scary moment where I had a bottle of pills on bed, and I was trying to figure out how many would kill me, since taking too many would just make me sick. After more than an hour of looking at the pills and fighting my natural instinct to stay alive, I gave up, and put the pills back in their bottle, and shook with agony and grief until I fell asleep.

The next day, I went out to a quiet field behind my house, sat down, and looked up in the sky.

Then I started screaming.

I shouted as loudly as I could, calling God every name I could think of, using more swear words in this speech than I had used in the sixteen years previous. I think my idea was to get God so mad at me he’d do what I couldnt do the night before and end my life.

By the time I was finished speaking, I was hoarse and my face was wet from tears.

Then something amazing happened.

Its hard to describe, but it was like I was no longer looking at a cloudy sky, I was looking right at the throne of God.

And He was looking right at me.

And instead of looking like he was angry, or disgusted with me, or disappointed in me, he looked at me and loved me.

He looked at me, and loved me.

As clearly as if we were two regular people talking, I heard him in my heart, and what he was saying was this.

“I love you. You can be angry with me, you can call me names if you need to. But I love you No matter what you do or say, through good times and bad, I love you.

Never forget this.

I love you”

Many, many years have passed since then. Twice since I reached a pit of despair so deep I would almost try to kill myself, but both times, I would remember this moment, and pull back before I would make the attempt. And now, having begun a transition, and found a church that doesnt think I’m sinning by doing so, once more I am looking at the heavens, and this time I realize what I heard all those years ago was the truth.

I’m loved.

Good times and bad times, pain and joy, When I make mistakes and when I get it right.

I’m loved.

And in the end, that’s all that matters.

.