Saturday, January 07, 2006

Letter to God

Dear God,

You and me, we've always been relatively close. Know what I'm sayin' big guy? We talk. We hang. As far as deity/creation go I think we've done pretty well together for the past 34 years.

However, I gotta tell ya. Lately...well, lately you've been pissing me off. I mean, first there was that hurricane that I did not get...and then you sent another one on top of it. Well, whatever...I mean Pat Robertson explained that one, right? [Not]. (And while we're on the topic of Pat...I wonder, why is it that you keep letting him use your name the way he does? I mean, can't you just smite him when he says crazy shit? Maybe not smite him badly, just a perpetual case of laryngitis? He is so bad for your might want to consider that, get back to me on it.)

But, there's this whole business about me not getting pregnant. You're fucking with me, dude. And, only moments after realizing I was not pregnant, and was sitting at Panera waiting for my mom, holding back tears just barely, you shove that baby in my face...yeah, you know the one...the one being improperly held by the teenaged father...the one who was essentially ignored by his seemingly prepubescent parents seated at the table next to me. Now I ask you, how is it that you see fit to give one to them, and then deny one to Robert and me? You're damn lucky I didn't snatch that baby away and make a run for it through the shopping mall. Then I would have had a sin greater than "coveting" on my record.

All I can say is that you're lucky I've been so highly influenced by your Christian folk, raised by them and all that. You're lucky I like that Jesus boy so much, 'cause if I didn't, there'd be a whole lot of other deities I might look into...I mean, hell, there's a lot of nice almighty powers wantin' to get on my dance-card if you know what I'm sayin'.

So, get your shit together, buster. I'm waiting.

Your beloved daughter in whom you are well pleased,

Editor's Note: I don't happen to believe that God wills all sorts of bad things, dear reader. Just poking what fun I could out of my grumpy mood. Never fear. Christen the believer in creation spirituality and an ever-unfolding God will emerge again soon. And I think God's probably just as grumpy and frustrated as I am about this damn infertility thing, She's like that.


Quotidian Grace said...

It's ok. God can take it! I have a wonderful young friend going through the same frustration right now.

Praying you get pregnant soon!

Anonymous said...

The psalmist, too, raged against God in the psalms of lament and it was apparent that the psalmist trusted that God could take whatever was dished out and would still love unconditionally. Your raw, unadorned cry to God, taking issue with God, questioning God is evidence of a strong, trusting relationship. What a brave, beloved daughter you are that you can be brutally honest with God. It is in this struggle that you will find your peace. God bless you and know that those who love you are joining with you in your cry and in your plea to God.

Someone in Texas who loves you!

Anonymous said...

I loved this "letter". Actually, between my giggles, responsive comments and "amens!" I thought that if we ever had conversations with God on the same day, there'd be a deep sigh sounding across the heavens and a divine, "Here we go again" echoing as our similar tirades fall upon God's ears. Take heart, your presence in the world and your shared word already make it a better place and there is a child/children, your girls included, that will be blessed by your presence in their lives.

Anonymous said...

My little B. girl and i have been talkin' to the Boss about you...we're thinking you will make a fabulicious mommy. Hang in there, we love you. J.

Anonymous said...

I am so sorry that you are in such pain over your infertility so far. I was just thinking of my favorite song/prayer that might be another possible way to approach God with your need.
My Eyes Are Dry
My eyes are dry, My faith is old, My heart is hard, My prayers are cold. And I know how I ought to be, Alive to You and dead to me. What can be done to an old heart like mine? Soften it up with oil and wine. The oil is You, Your spirit of love. Please wash me anew in the wine of your blood. Words by Keith Green
Having worked with Hospice for several years, I know what you face on a daily basis and I commend you for it.
I wish you the best.

Contemplative Chaplain said...

You have all been so incredibly kind and gentle with me. Namaste.

Thank you so for our light.