Mystery Blogger, Part 2

Oh boy. I am so tempted not to reveal my identity. I didn’t realize how much fun this would be. And I may be sorry when it’s all over…oh, the disappointment (and fury) it may bring.

I will tell you that I am not Margaret or Maggie or any other person residing in her body. Batty as she may be at times, Margaret does not, as far as I can tell, exhibit any real signs of multiple personality disorder. Yet.

I’ll give you two more clues. I have children and (theoretically) I educate them at home. That should narrow it down a bit.

Ha.

On Thursday afternoon I received an email from Margaret telling me to call her because she had a proposal. That’s it. She’s always rather cryptic and mysterious when she wants a timely response from me. Sneaky and manipulative, I know, but it works. Our conversation went something like this, in a nutshell:

Her: Would you be a guest on my blog tomorrow? I don’t have my conversion story written like I said I would, and I have to step away from it all for a few days. You could explain that for me and then share something of your own.

Me: I…ummm….no. Too intimidating. You have a bazillion more readers than I do. I don’t have the time. What would I write about?

Her: I was thinking you could write about your faith journey. Or you could just do something light. It’s up to you.

My faith journey? What is she thinking? Way too boring. I’ve always been a goody-goody, more or less. A stumble here, a stumble there, but no major deviations from the path that would be of any interest.

Me: Hey, could I write about your faith journey??

She didn’t seem too keen on that, and I quickly realized that anything I might cook up wouldn’t be anywhere near as exciting as what she has actually experienced. Fact really is stranger than fiction sometimes. Especially when it comes to Margaret.

My arm twisted and heart tugged (and that big wad of cash dangling before me), I finally consented, figuring it would be an excellent opportunity to humiliate Margaret a bit. Humility is good for sanctity, yes? I have always considered myself a person who is willing to do her part to help a friend on the journey toward Heaven.

I created some really funny (at least to me) posts in my mind, but whenever I tried to transfer them to the screen, they fizzled. And then there was that nagging something or Someone in the back of my head who just wouldn’t stop. I argued back. Faith journey? I told you, I have nothing worthwhile to say. No, not that. Haven’t I written about that enough already? Too much already?

Apparently not.

You see, for the past several years, though I look pretty good on the outside, a war has been raging in my soul that makes the battles in Braveheart look like child’s play. I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t like to think about it. But it’s there. All the time.

My life took a left turn, and I found myself on a path that I never imagined, never intended. On that fateful day I began a fight against accepting it all as the gift it was and still is.

That’s all I’m going to say for now. I fear I may have revealed too much already. I’ll just end by sharing a song from one of my favorite bands. It paints the essence of my constant prayer. In a very cool way.

Who’d have thought I’d discover a love for pop-punk bands in my forties? Life is full of sweet surprises if you keep your senses open.

A friend of