Thanks be to Christ for springing me out of the twilight zone; for the extraordinary measures he took to free me from the thickets of obscurity. And carry me home.

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.