Sunday, April 15, 2012

In A Tizzy
Me (in a tizzy)

God, can I ask you something?

GOD: Sure.

Me: Promise you won't get mad?

GOD: I promise

Me (frustrated): Why did you let so much stuff happen to me today?

GOD: What do you mean?

Me: Well I woke up late,

GOD: Yes

Me: My car took forever to start,

GOD: Okay....

Me (growling): At lunch, they made my sandwich wrong and I had to wait

GOD: Hmmmm..

Me: On the way home, my phone went dead, just as I picked up a call

GOD: All right

Me (loudly): And to top it all off, when I got home, I just wanted to soak my feet in my foot massager and relax, but it wouldn't work. Nothing went right today! Why did you do that?

GOD: Well let me see..... the death angel was at your bed this morning and I had to send one of the other angels to battle him for your life. I let you sleep through that.

Me (humbled): Oh...

GOD: I didn't let your car start because there was a drunk driver on your route that might have hit you if you were on the road

Me: (ashamed): ............

GOD: The first person who made your sandwich today was sick and I didn't want you to catch what they have, I knew you couldn't afford to miss work

Me: (embarrassed): Oh.....

GOD: Your phone went dead because the person that was calling was going to give a false witness about what you said on that call, I didn't even let you talk to them so you would be covered

Me: (softly): I see God

GOD: Oh and that foot massager, it had a short that was going to throw out all of the power in your house tonight. I didn't think you wanted to be in the dark.

Me: I'm sorry God.

GOD: Don't be sorry, just learn to trust me.........in all things, the good and the bad

Me: I WILL trust you God

GOD: And don't doubt that my plan for your day is always better than your plan

Me: I won't God. And let me just tell you God, thank you for everything today.

GOD: You're welcome child. It was just another day being your God and I love looking after my children.

3 comments:

Wanda said...

Oh, isn't that just like our God...So glad He's my Father.

Anonymous said...

My mother whipped me with anything she could lay her hands on – from coal shovels to wet dishrags. I was not that much different from other kids expect that my folks were divorced. I saw my mother knock my father backwards into a bushel basket of Mason glass canning jars and still marvel that he did not stand up castrated or worse. I guess that's why they got a divorce.

Reader Wil said...

Very beautiful, Patty! God works in mysterious ways.