Dear God,
I know you can hear me. I know you are with us. I know you love us. I just know.
But, sometimes, it's hard to make my heart know what my brain knows.
Like the time when the boy got cornered at school and he ran home, probably to cry because he was being intimidated by several guys at once. Where did you go?
Where did you go when a kid got beat down in the field?
I prayed for a girl who is going through some problems with another schoolmate; if you can hear me, can you bring her back, please? And, maybe, you can hush the rumours that are whispered from ear to ear, or prevent the people from writing the rumours down on the washroom stalls.
God, did you know I was going to get those pains? They almost seemed to have predicted all the horrible things that happened this week. And it's only Wednesday.
Did you hear my youth group leader wail as she strained something in her leg?
Could you let us know soon if the girl who nearly fainted tonight is all right?
Did you hear the kid tonight when he told one of my students to shut up because she was laughing? And did you hear her silence after that? And then it wasn't enough for him to tell her to shut up because later he insulted her, too. Then she cried. Did you hear that? Did you cry, too, when you heard? And she said she would stop attending on Wednesday nights, but I begged her to let things cool down and that we'll hang out on Friday and she said ok.
God, did you see me fall to my knees on my stairs when I got home and put my face into my hands? Could you taste the salt of my tears? Could you hear my heart beat louder than my words, the words that I cried out to you, "God, where are you? I have to come to you because there is nowhere else to go. I have to put ALL of these kids into your hands because there is nowhere else for them to go. Plus, your hands are larger than mine. Tell me to come to you, Lord. Please. I cannot save the world. But, you can. You Can. And I trust you to save these children, Lord."
God, I know you heard. I know you are with us. I know you love us.
But, sometimes, it's hard to make my heart know what my brain knows.
And right now, it's sometimes.
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2 comments:
this reminds me of a very moving sequence in Salman Rushdie's "The Satanic Verses" here's a bit of it:
"The anger with God carried him through another day, but then it faded and in its place there came a terrible emptiness, an isolation, as he realized he was talking to thin air, that there was nobody there at all and then he felt more foolish than ever in his life and he began to plead into the emptiness, ya Allah, just be there, damn it, just be."
the complete sequence takes place as he's (the archangel Jibril/Gabriel)in a coma and bleeding from every part of his body as the days go by.
few quotes stick in my mind as much as this one.
-ellisa
ah, here's the rest of it:
"During his illness he had spent every minute of consciousness calling upon God, every second of every minute. Ya Allah whose servant lies bleeding do not abandon me now after watching over me so long. Ya Allah show mme some sign, some small mark of your favour, that I may find myself the strength to cure my ills. O God most beneficent most merciful, be with me in this my time of need, my most grievous need. Then it occurred to him that he was being punished, and for a time that made it possible to suffer the pain, but after a time he got angry. Enough, God, his unspoken words demanded, why must I die when I have not killed, are you vengeance or are you love? The anger with God carried him through another day, but then it faded, and in its place there came a terrible emptiness, an isolation, as he realized he was talking to thin air, that there was nobody there at all, and then he felt more foolish than ever in his life, and he began to plead into the emptiness, ya Allah, just be there, damn it, just be. But he felt nothing, nothing nothing, and then one day he found that he no longer needed there to be anything to feel. On that day of metamorphosis the illness changed and his recovery began."
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