Dear God, I gotta question....

I found a little gem in my car this morning. No, not the earring I lost ages ago and definitely nothing of great value.... but it brought contemplation to mind and these days, that's good enough for me. I was on my way to work, applying my mascara as usual (Mom, please do not call me about this) and I dropped something between my center console and seat. I reached down to get it and discovered a cd stuffed in the crevices, clearly scratched and weathered. I recognized the handwriting on this "burnt" cd as my own and knew it was definitely old school, something from back in the day. I put it in, laughed outloud when I heard the first song and then thumbed through the next few. They were all really good songs, songs I had forgotten even existed but had at one point in my life meant something to me. Funny how one song can completely take you back, almost into another place in time, and as soon as the song is over you are back to your normal routine as if it never happened. Track 4 proceeded to begin and I was at a traffic light, mascara applied and coffee now in hand. I remembered hearing this song, oh, a good hundred times before without a second thought to it’s meaning. It had been years though since this tune had played in my head and it was somehow now a different song to me.


“But I wasn’t there the day You filled up the ocean,
I didn’t get to see You hang the stars in the sky.
So I don’t mean to second guess You,
or criticize what I don’t understand.
These are just a few questions I have.”


Hmmmm. Just as I was saying, songs can take you back. Sometimes to good places, sometimes to not-so-good places. Hearing this immediately forced me to recall a time in my life that wasn’t good. However, this “time” in my life included an event so life-changing, so embedded in my memory, that I think about it almost on a daily basis. I’ve heard before that God makes himself present in the darkest of times, right when you wonder where the hell He is, he makes himself known. And, well, dammit… He sure does.

 This day I’m referring to happened back in the very early spring of 2007, probably late March or so. The word “divorce” had just entered my vocabulary and I was still trying to absorb it. I was busy moving furniture, calling lawyers and calling on God, wiping away dust and tears, boxing up silverware and memories and trying to find a new “normal” while desperately trying to keep everything the same. You see, the steady flow of tears never really dissipates after a decision like this – at least not for awhile. My life, as I had known it, was over. I was 23. Divorced. An emotional wreck. In my mind, this was as bad as it gets. The bottom of the barrel, the lowest of lows. And then, as He always does, God showed up.


My ex and I were at dinner that evening, sitting on the patio just like we had done numerous times before – this meal was different, though. We were discussing who would keep the tupperware, who would pay the car insurance, what we would return and what we would keep, who we would tell and who we wouldn’t. We were grasping at straws, gritting our teeth, and attempting to keep our yelling to a minimum due to the crowd that had gathered at the outside tables to enjoy the same simple pleasures we once had. The tears started to come, nothing out of the ordinary, and I felt it in my gut… that feeling of total failure and lack of any good in my life at that exact moment.


I stopped yelling, dried my eyes and looked to my left. There was a family of 5, gobbling up their burritos and genuinely loving each others company. I quickly noticed what appeared to be the mother of these 3 children, her head wrapped in a scarf and lack of eyebrows and eyelashes apparent. Cancer, I assumed, and my heart became heavy. It was clear to me she wasn’t doing well. Her movements were slow, her breathing was labored, but she was there. In that moment, she was at peace with her family. Naturally, I listened contently to their conversation – I was hanging on to every word these people were saying. They were laughing and carrying on like any normal family would, obviously accustomed to the fact that Mommy was sick. Her daughter, whom I’m guessing was about 8 years old or so, was coloring in her own little world. She then said something as she colored, not even taking her eyes off her book. What she said will never, ever leave my memory. Ever. Not as long as I live. It haunts me.



“Mommy, the kids at school keep asking me what I’m going to do when you die.”


I can still hear her voice in my head, almost baby-like. The innocence that God affords small children amazes me sometimes (p.s. – Thank you, God for that). Here I am, arguing with a man that I married about bedroom furniture and wedding china and the magic bullet (the infomercial gadget people, get your minds out tha gutta!) and this woman is in front of me, desperately trying to live for her babies. My life, my struggles, my depression - this was peanuts compared to hers. And there God was… coming through the darkness, giving me perspective, showing me the light that is ever present but just not as bright at times. That poor woman would have traded circumstances with me in a heart beat, you can bet your sweet bottom. And from that moment on, my life was different. By that, I don’t mean it was different as far as marital status, or my address or my income – although all of those did change. I mean it rearranged who I was.


I don’t know why God gave that woman a deadly disease. I don’t know why he blessed her with 3 beautiful children and what appeared to be a committed husband, just to leave her hair-less and sick and in pain. I don’t know why my own mother, sister, grandmothers, aunts have all avoided that same circumstance. It's obvious to me that God knows all, the bible even tells us that He knows all the days of our lives before we are even born. So how does He pick and choose? I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't want that job. How does He decide which babies are born into poverty and war-stricken countries and which are born with free will and most likely won't ever go hungry? It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever understand in this fair, yet so unfair, life that I am SO fortunate to live. But I am grateful. And if you are able to read this, than you should be too. In the words of Jack Johnson, give people presents with your presence alone. You just never know.