I used to strain in prayer. God make me better. God fix me. God fill me. God make it happen. Change it. Give me what I want. Make me who I’m supposed to be. Desperate prayers. God save me. Save me from my desires. Save me from Hell. Save me from myself.   I firmly believe that God answered my prayers. Not by changing me but by letting me know I didn’t need to be changed. That my queerness and transness is a gift. That the ways I wanted to be saved weren’t necessary because I was never in danger in those ways.   My prayers these days are different. They’re not desperate, they’re filled with peace. With belief in a God who loves me and wants me to live an abundant life. I’m not begging to be filled, I’m giving thanks for having already received.   My hands aren’t empty, they are outstretched in thanksgiving for every good gift.   My faith isn’t shallow it’s overflowing with depth because I’m finally bringing all of myself to God.   I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not because God has made me to be exactly who I am. It’s all a gift. It’s all a gift.