Dear Jeff, Part II

Dear Jeff,

It’s not that things are slower than usual it’s just that I’m the ultimate multi-tasker.

Does intent matter?  Well, that depends.  As the trip-per, you didn’t intend to trip your opponent but as the trip-pee your opponent is still down on the ice regardless of whether you intended the trip or not.  The point is, accidents do happen but the fact is there is still a consequence for them.  Do you really believe you’re the first person who has ever tried to lead an “exemplary” existence but still experiences “bad things”?  Things happen.  They are not always of My doing.  It is pointless to question Me about them because I had nothing to do with them.  Do you really think I have (or want) any control over whether you buy/sell this duplex?  Instinctively I have endowed all living things with the need for food, water, and shelter.  Now, buying a parcel of land, knocking down the existing structure, and putting up a very fine duplex for the sake of making a profit isn’t exactly what I had in mind when it comes to “shelter”.  YOU people have created ownership.  YOU people have created wealth.  I just wanted to give you an impetus for getting out of the rain, wind, and cold.  Central heating was never in the mix.

You seem to be getting frustrated with Me.  You are unhappy that all I offer you at this time are “smelly uncle” hugs and strength that you think you already possess.  If you had the strength, however, you would not be calling upon Me at the moment.  You didn’t seek my advice when it came to building the duplex so why do you seek Me out now?  Because you had the wherewithal to build it but now that you’re feeling the pressures of not being able to sell it you are discovering that you are faltering.  Where were you in the first few weeks and months after the duplex went on the market?  Why weren’t you begging me for buyers at the start?  Because the pressure wasn’t yet greater than your resolve.  You have strength Jeff, but it is limited and when you know it’s almost gone you instinctively seek out more.  You are seeking shelter Jeff, in Me.  It’s what I have always endowed within my children.  And when you seek My shelter, I will shelter you…if you let me.  The business of buying/selling real estate is below Me.  The process of enabling and caring for My children is My business.

Bottom line Jeff; you’re acting like a child right now but that’s because you are.  My child.  Trust that I’ve been around a long time and know what works and what doesn’t.  Put your faith and trust in Me when all else fails (and if you’re smart you’ll do BEFORE all else fails) and things will work out fine.  Not perfectly perhaps, but fine.  Trust Me.

Big squishy hugs,

God

Dear God, Part II

Dear God,

Thanks for the prompt response; things must be slow for you up there.  Is the economy affecting the miracle business?

Hugs?  You’re offering me strength and hugs?  Seriously, God, that and three American dollars won’t buy me a decent cup of coffee.  Strength I have; each day I wake up and I’m still breathing and my precious family is still here and my children still look up to me.  A man needs little else to give him strength to persevere through any crisis.  And “hugs” from God don’t exactly help my situation.  If anything, “hugs” from God right now feel a lot like hugs from a strange, smelly uncle that you barely know.  Sure, you know you’re supposed to appreciate it, but you also can’t wait to get some fresh air.

Last week I was playing ice hockey and I was skating back to get a puck that had gone back into our zone; an opposing player was skating just behind me and, as I went to get the puck with my stick, he tripped over my stick and I was called for “tripping”  (You’ll remember all this, if you exist).   I questioned the referee about the call, because I was going for the puck and the trip was unintentional.  The referee said, “Intent doesn’t matter.”

Does it, God?  Does intent matter?  Because if intent doesn’t matter and any lifepath I chose would still lead here, I would have done things slightly differently.  Snorting cocaine off that hooker’s ass in 1987 would have been the start: I’m talking car chases down Sunset Boulevard that same year (with the hooker’s ass sticking out the window), orgies with all of my girlfriend’s friends in high school, and maybe even a bank robbery or two in college to help me pay for books and tuition.  If intent doesn’t matter, what’s the point of living a virtuous life?  Why would I set free the bugs that get into my house instead of squishing them like my wife wants me to?  Why would I care about my elderly neighbor’s health and mow her lawn when it needs it?  Why would I volunteer my time to introduce 7 year old kids to drama?

Why, God?

Sincerely,

Jeff

Dear Jeff, Part I.

Dear Jeff,

Nice try, but I don’t grant wishes to prove my existence.  Granted, my Son has tried those kind of cheap theatrics on occasion but He wised up after awhile.  Anyway, you currently find yourself in a predicament that is not of My making yet you look to Me to bail you out.  I created man and blessed him with the most incredible gift bestowed upon any living creature; the human brain.  Without it, you people would not have made it out of the Ice Age.  You’re basically fast food without it and, comparatively speaking, you’re not all that fast.  So don’t come to me now and ask me to send you a couple of buyers to alleviate the problem.  Sorry, I don’t work that way.  What can I offer you then?  Well, I can offer you the strength to continue on.  Strength that comes from a belief in a greater good and the knowledge that, armed with that strength, you can persevere through any crisis.  Didn’t you ever watch “Davey and Goliath”?

Anyway, as corny as it is, the old story about two sets of footprints in the sand is true.  My role in this is not to fix things for you; My role is to provide the strength you need to get through this by and for yourself.  And you will.  Some way, some how, this issue will be resolved.  Hang in there until then and be strong for everyone involved.

Hugs,

God

Dear God, Part I.

Dear God,

It’s me, Jeff.  “Who?”  Right, I get the joke.  I mean, we don’t talk much, except when I’m on an airplane, and even though it’s only when I’m taking off or landing.  And our conversations are limited to “Please get me to Vegas and back home safely to my wife and children afterwards.”  Pretty simple stuff, in the overall scheme of things.

But this is different.  I’m beginning to truly doubt your existence.  Sure, my conservative friends are going to flip, but hear me out.  See, God, if you truly exist, you gave me ambition, theoretically.  Right?  Right.  And you know my ambition can get a little unruly at times; at times, I think I can do anything.  And more often than not, it hasn’t been a real problem.  You know all that.  If you exist.

Until now.  You know, if you exist, that that ambition drove me to buy a piece of property in a hot Denver neighborhood, design a duplex for that piece of property, and hire all the people to build said duplex.  You know that it took a bit longer than it was supposed to and you know that it cost much more than I thought it would.  Because while you gave me ambition, you also gave me ability….that doesn’t quite match my ambition. You know all that.  If you exist.

And you know that our country is in a deep recession and that banks aren’t lending and that appraisers have new rules that limit what they can do and that there are very few buyers for a building such as mine:  Modern, with high end finishes and luxury items, such as elevators and a ridiculous view of downtown.  And you know that I’m making a monthly interest payment and that the prices are coming down and that I’m going to take a bath on this project, financially.  But you know all that.  If you exist.

So what gives?  Why me?  Why now?  I’m a decent guy; I’m committed to my family and my friends, and I try to do the right thing all of the time, because that seems to be the right way to live.  I’ve never been arrested, and I generally try to help people around me when they need it.  I volunteer at my children’s school as often as any parent, I teach drama club to kindergartners, I coach soccer, I coach T-Ball, I’m working hard to make sure my kids are good citizens of the world, I teach them right from wrong and empathy for their fellow human beings…  But you know all that.  If you exist.

So what the hell is this about, pardon my language?  Is this about my Vegas trips?  You understand that those are good for my soul, and you understand that I pose no danger on those Vegas trips, except to myself.

Is this about my misguided 20s?  That might be where you have a point.  Sure, I did a lot of stupid things in my 20s.  I may have used some illicit substances now and then or every weekend, and I may have treated some people poorly.  I may have.

But we’re past that, aren’t we?  I mean, I no longer use such substances and I try to treat people well.  Friends might even say I’m generous.  And, truly, that was 20 years ago.  Are people allowed to learn from their mistakes?  Oh, wait, maybe that’s what this is about.  Am I supposed to learn from this?  Is this a “teachable moment” in your vernacular?  Well, God, if you exist, this is honestly a poor time for a “teachable moment.”  My children are young and in need of full attention parenting and frankly, this situation almost makes it impossible to not be at least slightly distracted all the time.  I mean, I try to make everything “normal” for them, but I wonder if I’m even capable of that.  Because I’m in the midst of a “teachable moment.”

But hey, God, if you exist, if this is a “teachable moment,” so be it.  I’ll live.  I may be broke for the rest of my life, but I’ll live.  And I have my friends and my kids and my beautiful wife, who, for some unfathomable reason, is hanging around to see this through.  She talks about getting back to a “simpler life,” which is perhaps what this is all about.  Maybe it is.  Maybe it’s about living within your means and loving what and who you have and keeping your ambition under wraps.  If I can get back there, God, I can live like that.  But at the moment, that feels like a long way away.

And it’s affecting me, God, if you exist.  It’s affecting my lifelong belief in treating people right and always going through the checklist in my head:  “Is this the right thing to do?”  Lately, I’ve put the checklist down in the garbage bin of my head and left it there.  I mean, I haven’t done anything bad, per se, but I haven’t exactly gone out of my way to help old ladies cross the street.  And you know, God, if you exist, that normally I would do such a thing.  Without fail.

So maybe if I could get a morsel, a nougat of something good, I could continue to believe that you probably exist.  Maybe you could throw me a couple of buyers, say “we were just kidding, Jeff, here are people with money who like what you’ve done,” I won’t feel like this has been a gigantic waste of time, money, and energy.  And I’d quite possibly believe again.  In right and wrong, in treating people well, and in you.

Sincerely,

Jeff