Asking for help means you give meaning to the lives of those who are willing to give.
I am old enough to have grandchildren and crying out for help, but nobody is listening.
My mother had a learning disability and was raped by my father, and as a result I was born. My mother wanted nothing to do with me, and I was put in the care of my paternal grandmother. She was a violent woman, addicted to alcohol and drugs. She committed suicide when I was a teenager and made sure that I had to watch her doing it.
I married my husband when I was 19 and had two lovely daughters and a very ill disabled son. I took care of my son until he died at the age of six, but my husband would not have anything to do with my son. My husband went off with another woman and that really hurt me.
At the time my eldest daughter had just completed school, and she is a bright child. There was no money for her to study after my husband had left, and she could not go and study. She has only spoken to me in the most aggressive way you can imagine for the past twelve years, and goes out of her way to avoid me.
I was very alone after losing my husband, son and daughter one after the other, and worked very hard to keep myself and my second daughter alive.
Then I met a lovely man on a Christian dating website. He lived in another country, but we got on so well that he finally asked me to come and live with him. He paid for everything for me and my daughter to relocate. At first we were happy, but then his business ran into trouble and he became abusive. He blamed me for losing his business, even though I probably worked harder than him to keep it running.
He told me last week to move out and find another job. My daughter said she cannot help me and I have to find a job. I have no qualifications and don’t want to look into anyone’s eyes – I would rather kill myself.
I have no other family and I need some hope for the future.
There was a time when 'meditation or no meditation?' was a serious issue for me. I come from a Protestant background where in my (admittedly biased) view prayer was a practice of reciting long-winded and important-sounding words. I struggled for years with the concept of prayer. It did not make sense to me that in church other people should pray on my behalf - but then I thought that was just me being the rebel again, and I kept quiet about it.
Outside of church I read books about prayer, and the prayers of other people. Still, I had this feeling that something was missing. Eventually I gave up on figuring out what prayer is about and just got on with life.
Of course I had conversations in my mind with God, but none of the books that I read described these conversations as prayer. The conversations were also quite one-sided, because I told God