Why We Shouldn't Treat God Like a Drama Queen
She stands there looking out the window. For what, she’s not sure. Perhaps it’s for the return of Spring or the love she lost to a job opportunity in Albuquerque. Or maybe she looks for nothing more than the arrival of the mail with another announcement that she “might be a winner!” Sometimes even she doesn’t know what she’s waiting for.
But wait she does. Looking through the window that frames the only world she really knows anymore—a few scrubby bushes and a sad tree that used to sport a tire swing, but now only seems insistent on dying one big branch at a time.
The kids have gone. They don’t get back to see her much now, since the older one took a job in Seattle, and the younger one followed a dream to New York. Maybe what she looks for as she stands there is them … the ones she loves … to come home. She’d like to think that whatever else it might mean—more than the memories and the knick-knacks, the stuff they’ll inherit one day after she’s gone—that home means her. She wants them to come back looking for her.
And so, there she stands, looking out the window.
I suspect it’s not easy being God. Lot of whining to put up with, I would guess.
Plus the grabbiness. Yikes! The grabbiness. “Lord, help me to make it to my pedicure on time.”
And then there’s the garden variety cussedness humans seem so adept at manifesting from moment to moment.
All of those things mount up to aggravations if you’re God, though. But, come on, you’re God, so you’re supposed to be the adult in the relationship, right? Part of the job.
