Y is for You Said You Weren’t Talking To Me

“Good morning God,” I sleepily greeted Him as I silenced the alarm. After a good stretch, I rolled out of bed and padded over to my closet. “What I should wear today?” I asked Him. “I’ve got that appointment before work, dance classes, and dinner.”

No image came to mind. No small inner whisper filled my heart. My forehead quickly crinkled and then relaxed. I shrugged and made my way into the bathroom to prepare for work. Half an hour later, I pulled garments from my closet, donned an outfit, decided I didn’t like it, tried something else, changed it for yet other garments, and finally slumped on my bed wondering what would be the best thing to wear on a day that included so many different activities.

“Why aren’t You helping me?” I inquired.

The inner silence continued.

“You always help me,” I reminded Him. “You’ve helped me since I was a child.”

Still silence. Sighing, I went to rummage through my closet.

“Please help me,” I pleaded in a small voice when half an hour had passed and I had found nothing suitable. “I’ll be late.”

“You said you weren’t talking to me any more,” the voice spoke clearly in the silence.

angry-womanMy mind flashed back to the threat I had tossed out the night before as I fitfully tried to sleep, “If You don’t let me go home, I won’t talk to You anymore.” The previous day had been filled with thwarted hopes. By bedtime, I was embroiled in a temper tantrum demanding He give me what I knew I needed and deserved.

My head lowered, “I forgot.” My voice was that of a very young child caught doing something she suddenly remembers is wrong. Then I looked up, “I’ll always forget. You know that. I can’t help but forget.”

Silence again.

“I shouldn’t have said it,” I confessed. “I was just angry and scared and so tired.” I pondered for a moment, “Maybe there’s another way I can let You know without threatening to stop talking to You?”

A tear started in my eye as the warm tingle of His embrace held me for a moment. The image of my black skirt, black ballet flats, and green striped white blouse filled my mind. “I thought that blouse was dirty,” I told God as I looked into my closet. My eyes lit up, I had hung it in the wrong section. Quickly I dressed and rushed off to the subway.

Comments

  1. You brought tears to my eyes with this. Faith is that still, cool water that never calms and restores me but my experience is limited to desperation in the closet. ~hugs~ I cannot imagine living some of the stories told by friends. You inspire me. My final post for the challenge at http://darlamsands.blogspot.com is about zinnias. I am number 1157 on the list now and can’t believe the month is nearly over.

Tell me what you think. Thanks.

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