But really though. One of the reasons why I'm here in Boston is to figure my "why." Everyone has one: that ultimate purpose, that fulfilling profession, or even just a summer job that completes you. I don't know what mine is. I want to know what it is, where I'll be. More importantly, I want to know what God plans to do with me. Unlike a couple years ago, I'm not in a good place spiritually. It's not that I don't believe in God or Jesus; I very much do. But I feel like a dead branch on a living tree: around, but not accomplishing much. Where did all that confidence in God go? Why does it suddenly seem he's not talking to me? My Methodist upbringing points to the rational part of my faith: of course God's there for me, he loves me, sacrificed for me, John 3:16, etc. He helped me arrive safely in Boston, sho' nuff. Yet when I sit in this huge empty room and I pray, I feel blocked. My call hasn't gone through, or maybe it's call waiting? A busy signal? I feel like I'm faking my prayers. I do mean them, I genuinely do. But the spirit in them has died. Is it perhaps I feel as though I sinned too much? Am I ashamed of myself? I don't really know, and some days I don't really care. The priest at my church when I was in college told me I'm experiencing a "dark night of the soul." I'll say this: it's a night that has lasted for several months. Then today I found a card in my dresser drawer that said this: "We only know the relief of dawn when the terrors of the night have kept us awake. We only know the joy of resurrection when the fear of darkness has clutched our hearts, but even there, even then, even now God is at work in your life. Take courage. Now is God's time in your life." For the briefest moment as I held the card, I had a little hope. Maybe this year God will show me where I need to be.