Thanks be to the Christ for springing me out of the twilight zone and for the extraordinary measures he took to free me from the thickets of obscurity.
Jesus, you are who you say you are. I am who you say I am.
I believe. (Except for the times I collapse in a heap on the floor and wail from a place so painful and desperate and raw that I make sounds only the neighborhood dogs can hear.) In which case, I pray:
"I believe, Lord. Help me with my unbelief!" (Mk 9:24)
And then I believe . . . again.