Monday, August 22, 2005

Hello God? Are You There? It's Me Stacy...

When I was a child still clinging to a healthy kidney and a faithful heart, I imagined that God was an immense individual with long, flowing robes who peered down upon all that I held dear.

It was upon the sixteenth day of throwing up my innards and wasting away to a mere seventy pounds that I witnessed my faith spill from my lips and splash upon the floor of my parents bathroom.

It lay there, spoiled and rotten, stagnant and foul until it eventually dried up, leaving behind the crust of my faith of whom I once knew as the almighty God.

I used to believe that suffering was an end to a means, that a lesson would be learned, that divine widsom would be granted when patience was finally exhausted.

But here I slouch dear God, tired and weak, pummelled to the point of mere futility.

I do grant you this dear God, you do have a sense of humor, that I know to be true.

For example, for the last week and a half you have allowed me to enjoy a plentiful breakfast and meager lunch, only to grab both from deep within my gullet and expel them upon my office floor just in time for the dinner bell.

I imagine that this tawdry example of frivolity is to entertain you and your minions in what you declare as heaven, because I found it highly revolting.

The stain won't remove itself from the carpet, my office has the stench of hell's kitchen and there you are sipping honeyed nectar through a straw.

When I visit the hospital for the umpteenth time, or peer around dialysis which I'm forced to endure, all I see if your lack of attendance.

With results like these, you would most likely be brought up on charges of child neglect, facing numerous counts of endangerment and threatened with a life sentence. You would be forced to spend your days doing favors for smokes and pages from a used Playboy.

When I was just a child I was told by family and teachers that within me lay the potential for unblemished greatness.

Today that greatness rests proudly on my office floor.

With this short, meandering entry, I have proven without a shadow of a doubt, simply by using my one lone example, that You don't exist.

The Earth is littered with thousands upon thousands of stories just like mine, and You do absolutely nothing.

I have been told point blank by those who hold your teachings so dear that I should keep seeking your guidance and I will one day be shone the light.

Maybe my soul is far from saving. Maybe I need to release my bitterness or anger.

Or maybe I just need to stop wasting my time on a God that was never present in the first place.

1 comment:

  1. Or maybe this idea that God should fix whatever we need him to and on our terms was created by stupid greedy people, maybe God himself didn't come up with that one.

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