I am still searching for Jesus, and still can’t find Him anywhere in this godforsaken place. I have increased my religiosity, praying the rosary, praying a novena to St. Patrick (because of St. Patrick’s Day), I watched daily Mass online (couldn’t get up the courage to walk to church), and I did Lectio Divina. You’d think after all that I would be able to find Jesus, but it just hasn’t happened. I’m not giving up. I’m going to try to say the rosary every day, and watch online Mass every day, and complete my novena. A novena is nine days, with a portion of the prayer done each day. I got down on my knees before the video of the Mass, and still Jesus did not come. As I said, I am not giving up. He has to be here somewhere. Maybe I need to go to confession before He’ll come to me. I have written down a list for Confession, since I have a poor memory. I wrote it in shorthand, so if I somehow lose it, no one will be able to tell what it is.

Even though I am still in panic mode, still feeling like I’m disappearing, memories of what it was like to have Jesus’s Spirit are coming back to me, and filling me with nanoseconds of peace at a time. It’s not ideal, but it’s something. It is raining off and on today, and I have a tealight warming up some patchouli and cedarwood oils. It doesn’t take much to scent my little home. I love how overcast it is right now, with the rain pitter-pattering on my roof. I would be happy if it rained every day, but today is going to be the last day of rain for a long while. My husband won’t be home for another three hours and fifty minutes, which feels like a really long time when I’m going through panic and anxiety. I need Jesus to come and wrap His arms around me and hold me close. I remember how it felt to have His Spirit, it was amazing. I don’t have it right now, and I know exactly why. It’s my fault. I’m the one who refused Him when He called me. And now I’m desperate for Him to come back, and He’s not. At least, not yet. I’ll say it again, I’m not giving up. It’s been four years since I have been active in the church, which is a long time. I have written about how I’m trying to syncretize my Christianity with Wicca, but I’m back to feeling that it’s the wrong thing to do. Today’s reading was about how the Israelites were worshiping the golden calf, and that brought to mind my worship of Mother Gaia and Mother Selene. It convicted me that no, you cannot syncretize Christianity and Wicca. I have to learn to let Wicca go if I want to be in communion with Jesus.

Once I have Jesus’s Spirit back, I won’t have any desire to cast spells or do any sort of nature worship. I feel that Wicca has been impeding my spiritual growth, because the only real spirituality is that of Jesus. It won’t be easy for me to let Wicca go, but I feel that I must. I have my Book of Shadows and my wand in my cabinet above the dining table. I should really throw them away, but I can’t bring myself to just yet. I’ll get there. First I think I need to go to Confession. I just wish it were in the morning instead of in the late afternoon, because I do much better in the mornings, my anxiety is too high in the afternoons. But it is Saturdays at 4pm. Worst possible time for me. I am enjoying the rain, if only I could find Jesus in the rain. I have a load of laundry in the dryer, I should probably go check on it. I don’t want to be like my neighbors and leave my laundry there for hours. I believe I will find Jesus again, it’s just going to take some time. I made a huge mistake when I refused Him fourteen years ago. I still don’t feel forgiven for that. If I were, I would have Jesus’s Spirit again. Someday, just not today.