It gets better
It gets better
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You know, I been seeking God for over 50 years. Chasing hard after him. I am always praying for wisdom, knowledge, and understanding. I want people to think I’m more of a wise guy than a buffoon, or baboon, but so far, the monkeys are far ahead. I want to say a word or two and have jaws drop and people talk about me behind my back. I mean, they do that now, but I want them to say nice things.
So, it’s time for our mid-morning walk and I been writing sad stories for seven hours since I got up at 4:00 this morning. I don’t like sad stories because I have a melancholy spirit underneath this bubbling, happy façade and I can go morose or bleak pretty quickly. Gully unload on the grass and I work the scooper and we move on to the next sniff spot. “Ahh, Joe Dog was here an hour ago. And his lumbago is acting up again. Ohh, and sniff here. Willa Coyote is expecting pups next month. Hope there’s cake.”
Down the block I see some pickup trucks across the sidewalk. Someone is moving out. As I get closer, I see it’s my friends. I was friends with the guy who sold them the solar house. They have huge ugly solar panels on their roof and I already looked into it and trading my good-looking roof for some ugly panels to save sixty bucks a month was not worth it for moi.
Tom and Barb are moving out. He’s got his Harley up there in the front of the flatbed trailer. And they have all kinda boxes and bins loaded up. I didn’t know there were that many bins in the world and they’ve got pretty much all of em up on that trailer and bandersnatched down.
“Is that a custom paint job on that Harley? Cuz it looks pretty good?”
“No, it’s right from the factory.”
“Well, it’s pretty nice.”
“Thanks.”
“I always wanted a Fat Boy.”
“Yeah, those are nice. Maybe next one?”
I can’t think of anything else to say so I blurt out, “How can I pray for you,” which was a chucklehead thing to ask. Stevie Wonder woulda known what to pray for them. I guide the dogs around the pick-up truck and take three more steps then stop. I consider it, and decide I should say what just came to mind.
I walk back and tell the woman. “I been where you are now. There is nothing worse except maybe losing a child. But it gets easier. Draw near to God and seek him. It gets easier.”
It sounds hollow and it’s not near enough to asswage their pain. Nothing could. They have to go through this sorrow but they have each other to lean on. Maybe they’ll roll their burden on God. He could help em. Maybe they won’t. Me and the dogs walk on and I feel bad. I feel bad because here was the perfect opportunity to bring great comfort and healing and some of those deep, spiritual words I’m always pestering God for. But he didn’t give me any of them. Only brought to mind what I had gone through when I lost my car or lost my home. How terrible I felt. So empty and hopeless and alone.
And all I could tell these poor people was it gets better. Get closer to God and it gets better. I really wished a had something profound and wise to say. But I didn’t have any. All’s I could c give them was what I had. The End.