Sleeping on Kitchen Floors


Last night I slept on my kitchen floor.

I had just downed an entire bottle of red wine, danced myself stupid and sang my throat dry. I went to the floor and touched my head to the ground. I asked God to help me, for I felt unworthy and then I fell asleep. I woke up a little while later and realised what had happened. As I lay there I remembered when I used to sleep on the floor because I had no bed, or room to speak of. When I moved to this country after grad school I came back with nothing and spent the first year sleeping on floors and couches. I couldn't find a job, I had no money, and no home. I stole food from my friends and wandered aimlessly. I had heartbreak after heartbreak and I could not understand what was happening. I told God to bring me here and He did, perhaps I did not understand that His purpose was not my own. I had a big head back then, I thought I was the sh*t and God had to break me.

Once I finally found a job and was able to secure a more steady home situation I had to leave the country. I then cried out as I did last night. Why? Why? Where am I supposed to go? And that was the first time I heard Him, or I should say that was the first time I listened.
Go Home. Not to the Home that you know, but the Home that you don't.
And so I went to the Dominican Republic. Everything that happened there is catalogued in this blog for all to read - I do not need to recount. In the end (of that period) I was able to return to London. I came back to a good job, I found an amazing flat, and I started dating an amazing guy. Everything was perfect. Things didn't work out with the guy but I learned a lot from him and we're still friends to this day. Life was good and I realised that I needed to fulfill my promise to God and start going to church.

I was scared and nervous. I normally don't like crowds (especially new ones) and I hate doing things by myself but I didn't have any Christian friends here so I would have no choice. I remember the first day I walked to a Church not too far from where I live.  I walked quickly, quiet on the outside but screaming inside. I thought of every excuse why I should go home - I left my phone, my wallet, what if I need something? What if, what if, what if. But I did not turn back and I walked into that Church. I was welcomed and I was at peace. I sat through the service and knew that that Church was not for me but I would still give it a chance.

The following weekend a friend from grad school, who had moved away to the States, was in town visiting. They only time she could meet was when Church was in session and so I used it as my excuse not to go. I met her for what I expected to be lunch - I didn't eat all morning - and met her at Garfunkles. I asked for a menu and she told me not to bother, we weren't staying and I said oh? She took me next door to Hillsong. A Church.

I was so hungry.

And I left that building that day having been fed. My friend went back to the States and I have stayed at Hillsong ever since. I have joined a bible study group (called connect groups), I attend theology night classes, and I have been baptized. I have to say that my life has been wonderful since. I have met amazing people, have grown more confident in myself and with my non-christian friends, and things at work have also progressed. My relationship with my Mother is better than ever before, just a few weeks ago my Father called me and spoke to me for about an hour about his day. It was the first conversation I had with him since I was a teenager (having only seen him once a year ago - though we did not speak).

Next thing I knew it was time to renew my visa. I thought to myself - here we go again. But I had faith that the reasons why I was made to leave in the past have been rectified - I have learned my lessons and so I put in my application and waited. There is a major story to speak of when it comes to this application where I would have to hand over my passport but I will leave that to another day. Last week, my visa was approved and a few days ago my passport was returned to me. So I'm here in London for at least another year, I have a job, a home, and things in my life feel truly blessed.

So you may ask yourself, why was he drunk, crying, and sleeping on the floor?

Well, lately though things in my life have been going great, all around me there has been so much suffering and one thing that seemed to be going great for me (gasp - a relationship) ended suddenly and unexpectedly. I have been trying to hold things together for those around me while building something with a potential future and when it all seemed to collapse so did I collapse.

As I lay there on that kitchen floor remembering all that has happened to bring me to today I realised that God has no problem taking things away from me, but he always offers me something better.

In the last few months I have been bombarded with the message that it's not about me, never was. I hope that whatever the reason for things, that they play out as they should and that I, and those involved, come out greater and stronger because of it.

I got up off that floor, went my room and pulled my mattress out into the hallway and into the living room. I plopped it down on the ground and slept the way I did only a few years ago - but this time with the comfort of a mattress underneath me.

Thank You God.
Sleeping on Kitchen Floors Sleeping on Kitchen Floors Reviewed by Unknown on 07:25 Rating: 5

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