Mr. Happyballs Says a Prayer For Me

Heeellllooo Children and Hidee-ho! Mr. Happyballs here, guest posting for my Mistress Heidi.

She asked me to write a prayer for her, so here goes. (Quick side note: this started out silly, but I was surprised it got sincere.)

“Dear God,

My Mistress Heidi is a hot mess.

Girlfriend bought funky glasses and she doesn’t even need a prescription. Does she really think looking like a fake intelligent hipster is gonna make up for all the glitter and the Hello Kitty crap?

God, we both know she has both high and low self esteem. One day she’s taking on the world and the next she’s in the fetal position with cupcake frosting smeared in her hair. This chick needs to find a little balance or go to Arizona to a spiritual retreat.

You know she has always felt close to you, God, from the time she was a little girl and went to church with her friends, even though her mother and father didn’t go.

Then she went to that youth camp in the woods and you handed her a gift and she could speak in tongues. That meant you could understand her, but the devil couldn’t.

It’s a good trick, and she was sincere about it until she began to feel too self conscious making those sounds alone. One day she just stopped doing it, but she learned she could pray to you anywhere, at any time. Like tweets to God, I mean You.

To be honest, she hasn’t always felt close to you. There was the time when her boy got sick and she was so angry, she pulled away from you, even felt self destructive and depressed. Her shadow side scares her, but most of the time the light shines through, and she knows you are always there, loving her in spite of her failures and shortcomings.

She’s a loving mother even though she’s not perfect, and she’s very hard on herself, by far her own worst critic. With your help, she will make it and thrive. Maybe even help somebody else.

God, please make her see what you see, make her see the beauty inside her soul. In fact, please let everyone in the world see that they can be a stained, bacteria laden stuffed clown on a dusty thrift shop shelf and someone can still find them special. And worthy of love.

And don’t tell her we spoke, okay? I don’t want sister friend to think I’m this soft.

In Jesus name I pray,

~ M.H.