Jesus Gave Me My Soul Back



One morning, several years ago, I went out for my morning run.


I heard the familiar "caw caw" of the neighborhood crows as I set out on my journey.


This was always a "sign" to me that the doors to the realm of Spirit were open and someone in the Spirit realm had a message.


Today it was Jesus.


Jesus and I have a complicated relationship.


Born and raised a born-again, tongue-talking, jig-dancing, foot-stomping Christian, the first thirty-five years were spent in His company, or at least, attempting to be in His company. I danced my jigs, stomped my feet, said my prayers, and did everything I thought was necessary to score my place in Heaven.


At some point, the honeymoon was over. Admitedly, it was always somewhat of a struggle, but I was in denial. If there was a problem, surely it was my fault, not Jesus'.


Fast forward into my forties. I had left my faith, divorced my husband, remarried, and left my relationship with Jesus in the crumpled mess of my past. Bur