dear lord it’s 3:46 am and i miss you. i know i haven’t talked to you in a while and i feel like that fake friend that only waves at you sometimes but is quick to ask for something when i need it. earlier this week in class i know you were watching when my professor asked the class to make a list of 10 descriptions of our identity all beginning with “i am” and i wonder if you were as astonished as i was that i did not mention that i am your child. i wonder if you sighed a little that that wasn’t the first thing on my list and that that wasn’t the first thing on any of the people around me’s lists. the topic of the day was whether who we are is mostly shaped by our culture or whether we are simply who we are even if we were taken out of the context of this culture. my response was that i am naturally made up of the culture in which i am a part of. in hindsight i realize that my response is equivalent to saying that i am of the world. dear lord i know that you did not call on me to be of this world and that as your chilld i am not suppose to be living by the standards of this world but by your standard of love and fellowship. i don’t know where to start in getting to know you again. i wasn’t even aware that i had allowed my surroundings and busy environment to drown out your voice. teach me to hear your voice again and to know the difference between your voice and my voice. teach me to trust in you. immerse me in your presence and anchor me to your word even when everything around me tells me you’re a concept rather than an ever present force. dear lord it’s 3:46 am and i miss you but i know you’ve been here the whole time.