Religion

I was reading my posts and thinking, dang I sound like I'm going to show up on your doorstep Sat morning, asking if you have found Jesus. I don't really "do" religion, but I defend your right to do, or not do religion all you want. I "do" God, and there is a difference, for me, anyway.
I remember tucking my daughter in one night and she said, "Mom I don't think God wants us to worship Him. I think he just wants us to be happy." My kid is pretty smart, and this sums up my relationship with God. I go to horse church on Sundays. I hop on my horse, head for somewhere beautiful and that's where I feel most connected to God. You'd think, she talks to angels, they talk to her, she'd be in church every day. I just don't think God is limited to a building, and it's what is in your heart that connects you to the source. I know people that go to church "religiously", and go home and beat their kids.
So yes, I talk to angels and they talk to me. They have a rather dry wit, and only speak if there is something they wish to say. They aren't chatty. They have spoken to me out loud twice, where I could actually hear them. They can be loud, that way. Mainly, in my head (yes, I've considered the "I hear voices" thing) in block thoughts, so translation is challenging. Think about it, you see a sunset, and there is this block thought going on in your mind, it's beautiful, the colors brilliant, maybe there's an ocean or mountain for a setting, and if you try to put words to it, you dilute the experience with words. At least my command the english language is not refined enough to get it down on paper. If I don't get down something, it's like trying to remember a dream, and I have a tough time remembering exactly what they said.
I've only spoken to God a couple of times, or I should say, He spoke to me. I was sitting at my window, waiting for the propane truck to pull in and cut off my gas. It was winter and I was having a dark night of the soul. I was so terrified of the next moment, that I could only be "in the moment". I said to myself, "Right now we have heat, a roof over our heads, and a little food." I had no idea how I was going to feed my daughter and myself that night. But right now? I'm good. In this moment, everything is good. It was a gift, really. Learning to be in the present moment. It's hard. Don't you find yourself drifting towards next week, or yesterday, anywhere but where you are? That day I discovered how to be in the present moment. It was because I was too terrified to be anywhere else, but still, there I was.
I remember suddenly not being anywhere. I was in a void, not in my body and it was utterly dark. Not black. Black is a color and this was nothingness. Total darkness. I came out the other side, and there was God. I don't see angels or God, I hear them. That's my thing, so I can't tell you what God looks like, although my daughter can. Another story, another time. God told me that He was going to take care of me, and that I didn't need to be scared, ever again. I was going to be alright. I was filled with the most blissful peace. I felt clean and whole.
Next thing I knew, I was back in my chair by the window. The phone rang and it was the welfare office. The woman was pretty excited and asked me to come to the the office right away. I walked the mile to the office, winter storm raging, in white out conditions. When I arrived, I was ushered into a back office, and told about a brand new program that would pay all my bills, and get me on my feet. They paid my bills, bought me a car, paid for the insurance and registration, and gave me enough food stamps to fill the fridge. After that, everything fell into place. So well that I began to worry. It was uncomfortable because it was unfamiliar. I felt myself drifting back towards fear. That night I was not awake, but I wasn't dreaming, either. Then I heard that familiar voice, and I knew it was God. He told me that I had nothing to fear. He took me back through the dark void to the place I had lived so many years. "This is the dark", He said. then he brought me back through to the place I now lived. "This is the light. This is the dark", and back I went, "and this is the light." He told me I was here now, in the light, and I would never have to go back. I never did.