Conversations With God: April 24, 2010

    I'm sitting on my back porch watching birds dive bomb overgrown flowers and wondering why I can't teach my cat to mow.  He needs to earn his keep somehow.

   "Life isn't unfolding quite the way you expected."

   I don't look over, even if it is the Almighty.  I feel rather than see him sink into the pink lawn chair beside me.  "I thought it would be different," I admit begrudgingly.  "I had an epipheny for God's sake."

   He chuckles and I have sense enough to blush.  "Sorry."

   "You're referring to the voice advising you 'not to hide your light'?"

   I do look at him this time.  "You actually read my posts?"

   He smiles.  "What kind of Father would I be if I didn't?"

   I try not to dwell too much on the warm feeling spreading throughout my system with that statement.  I stare back out into the yard.  "I thought my life would be different after that...all full of meaning and warm fuzzies."  I sound bitter even to my own ears.

   "You expected life to be different," he repeats gently.  "But are you?"

   I turn to him.  "Me?"

   "Yes, you.  How can you expect your life to change if you don't?"

   "But, I don't know how to change."  It sounds lame even to my ears.

   "I think you do."

   "Are you sure you're not giving me too much credit?"

   He ignores that.  "I know what you're capable of."

  "I'm glad you do," I grumble.

   "Choose one thing to change."  I start to say something but he stops me with a look.  "Just one...that's all I'm asking.  You might be surprised what happens."

   We fall silent as I consider his words.  "I don't suppose I could work on the fact that I don't eat nearly enough chocolate?" I ask hopefully.

   "Perhaps that could be second on your list."

   I nod, still hesistant, but not quite as alone as before.

Conversations With God: April 13, 2010

     God said, "So, how's it going down there?"
     I forget for a moment I'm actually talking to the Almighty.  "I never imagined you'd be a "how's it" kind of being," I reply without thinking.
    He clears his throat.  "Forth with, young disciple, descendent of Tarsus.  How goeth ye fruits of thine day?"
     I'm not particularly amused.  "Isn't the tarsus a bone in my foot?" I say.  "And, I wasn't aware sarcasm was one of your virtues."
     He chuckles.  "If it were, you'd be a saint by now, wouldn't you?"
     I smile back at him in spite of myself.
     "So," he says.  "What did you want me to do?"
     I stare at him.  "Me?  I didn't want anything."
     "That's not what you said about 4:00 this morning."
     I continued to stare, not feeling particularly "virtuous" just then.
     "Sometime between Spongebob Squarepants and The Fairly Odd Parents, I believe."
     "Oh."  I did remember that.  I blushed, and it wasn't just because of my poor taste in cartoons. I shrug. "It was just a slight panic attack.  Whatever, I said, I'm sure I didn't mean it."  I remembered exactly what I had said. God, please help me.
     His voice softened even more now, if that was possible.  "And that's why you sat up the rest of the morning crying?"
    My throat closed up. "You were watching me?"
     "No, my child.  I was holding you."
     I didn't look at him..  I couldn't.  I couldn't even summon up one sarcastic Footprints remark. I just closed my eyes for a moment and let his words wash over me.
     "You were there," I finally say.
   "Yes." And that's all he says for the longest while, as we sit in comfortable silence.  Then he bumps his shoulder against mine.  "Do you suppose you could you do something for me?"
     I look at him.
     "For all that is holy, no more Spongebob.  I don't think even I can bear to hear "Who Lives in a Pineapple Under the Sea" one more time."
     I think I can live with that.