It was one of those days. One of those days when the sky is clouded over, rain is in the air, and your boss just reamed you out for no good reason. One of those days when nothing is right because, well, everything is just plain wrong.

You feel like that proverbial camel — all lumpy and out of shape — and someone’s tempting your temper by adding one more straw to the pile on your back. Then you explode. That’s it! That’s enough! You can’t take it anymore, and you just want to have it out with the Guy who brought you into this world.

At least that’s what happened to me. I was tired of the uncertainties in my life. I was confused about where God was, and if He even existed. So, there I was, sitting still, surrounded by rush-hour traffic on my way home from work. Seething. Angry. Empty and alone. For the first time in my life, I got mad at God. Really mad.

“Where are You anyway?” I yelled. “If You’re out there, how come You’re so quiet? How come You ignore my prayers, my hopes, my dreams … my pleas?”

Then it got personal. For two and a half years, my husband and I had been trying to have a child. But God was, well … let’s just say He was silent on the issue. I continued my rant.

“And what about kids? We have a dream. We want a family. And yet You sit there — all-powerful, all perfectly able to make it happen, but nooooo … You just won’t do it. What is it with You anyway? What did we do to deserve this ongoing pain? Just where are You?”

Slowly, I breathed in, then exhaled. That felt good. I glanced around my vehicle. People were staring at the crazed woman, tears pouring down her cheeks, wondering if she was fit to drive. I presume some were tempted to get on their cell phones and report a safety risk! I pulled myself together and drove the rest of the way home.

It felt good, but at the same time I felt guilty. I wasn’t supposed to yell at God. After all, He is God. Maybe He would strike me down with lightning. Yank away some more of the things I dearly loved just to show me who was boss. But nothing happened. I heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing. Heaven remained silent.

Soon I found myself wondering if there even was a God. Even though I had been a Christian since I was 12, now nearing 30 I had my doubts. I stopped talking to Him. Stopped asking Him for guidance in my life. I was tired of Him and wanted nothing to do with Him … if there even was a “Him.”

My husband freaked out. What did this mean for us? How would it affect us as a couple? What about church and life and faith and unity? “Give me time,” I said. “I need to figure this all out. I need to try to understand what’s going on.” My husband reminded me of times when I had said God had spoken to me. He also tried to remind me about the miracles and good things that had happened in our lives.

Flukes, I said. All flukes. I just wasn’t in a place where I could hear it. As much as I like to work through things with my husband and hear his point of view, this was one of those things I had to do on my own. I needed to know what I believed and why — not what someone else wanted me to believe.

A couple of months passed. Life was really strange when I eliminated God from it. I actually began to realize how often I had relied on Him and prayed to Him throughout the day. Sometimes I caught myself starting to talk to Him about life or asking Him to help with a creative concept for a project I was working on. Every time, I stopped myself.

“He’s not out there,” I would say. “And if He is, He’s not listening.”

Then one day as I was driving home from work, I was listening to the local Christian radio station. Why? I don’t really know. I had written content for their Web site and knew all the DJs, so maybe it was just the personal connection that kept me company on the road.

Anyway, a song started playing. I had heard it before, but had never listened to the words. This time, something drew me in. It was the group Tree63 singing “Blessed Be Your Name.” As I listened to the words, tears started to fall. They sang about praising God even in the desert times, even when everything feels wrong, when you feel empty and nothing is going right.

I started to sing along, choking on the words that were somehow stuck in the subconscious part of my mind. I realized that anger was ruining me. I realized that the past couple of months of living without God had been so empty. I still had no clue what God was up to, but I just had to reconcile with Him. I had to trust Him and praise Him — in the best of times and the worst of times. Or it would be the death of me.

Over the next couple of days, the same song played on my way home. I sang along, crying every time, trying so hard to really mean what I was singing. Then one day, the anger shattered. The words penetrated my heart, and — for the first time — I really meant them. I made it through the song without tears, without sorrow, without bitterness. All I felt was joy. In an instant I knew that no matter what happened, I was going to enjoy life, be happy, live life to the fullest … whatever that might mean.

It’s been a year since that life-changing moment. My husband and I are still dreaming about having a family, but I’m happy. I’m still really happy! I still don’t understand God, but I love Him. And I know He’s there for me, for you, for neighbors, family and friends — cheering each of us on through our joys and our sorrows. Just knowing that makes all the difference.