A conversation with God

    I woke up at 8:59 am. I still had about an hour before I needed to get up to catch my 2:00 plane, so I decided I'd sleep for another half hour or so. So I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
    I didn't wake up half an hour later. I didn't even wake up an hour later. I awoke at 12:45 pm. As I gazed at the clock, it took me a moment to register what I was seeing. I then cursed at the top of my lungs, and sprung out of bed.
    I ran around my run down apartment throwing on clothes and throwing stuff into my suitcase. I actually tripped over my suitcase once, giving my ankle  pretty bad sprain. When I was finally all packed and ready, I tried to run out to my car, but with my sprained ankle, I probably looked like a freak, with my uneven steps.
    I drove, speeding to the Airport and got there at about 1:45. I already had my ticket with me, so that was ok. But when I got to the bag check in line, there were at least 10 people in front of me. This was not my day.
    I decided I didn't have near enough time. So I took my bag through security, planning to take it as my carry on, apparently, though, they do not allow you to take full sized suitcases onto a plane. I spent about 3 minutes arguing with the security woman, when I decided to just leave it. I didn't have near enough time to get the bag through. I'd buy some clothes when I got to Boston.
    I ran all the way to the gate, and took a great sigh of relief. The sign said that my flight had been delayed. It was only 2:10, so it was surely still at the gate. I ran to the woman and asked when flight 289 took off. She frowned at me, and said that it had already left.
    “But the sign said it's delayed.”
    “It does?” she asked. “I wonder why. Flight 289 took off about 10 minutes ago.”
    “What? But the sign said-”
    “Sir, there must have been a mistake. Someone probably put that on the sign by accident. You've missed your plane. But luckily for you, there's a plane to Boston taking off in 6 hours. I can put you on that flight.” She smiled at me.
    Lucky? Yeah right. I'd get to Boston at 10:30 at night and get up at 7:00 the next morning to make it to my father's funeral. He'd died after battling cancer for six years. Even though he had cancer, I somehow never thought that he could possibly die. He was my dad. He'd always been so tough. I was devastating when he died. When I found out, I hated the world all of a sudden. I hated God.
    I cursed Him for taking dad. How could He do that? But my hate for God didn't last for long. I decided that there was no God. We were alone in this world. When we died, we did nothing but go six feet underground forever, until we turned to dust and were completely forgotten all together.
    My anger for my father's death soon turned toward whoever was the one who invented the damn myth of some guy up in the sky who got lonely and made one man and one woman who alone started the world's civilization. I hated whoever invented God.
    But my anger soon turned to guilt. My father was a completely religious man, and he wouldn't want me having these feelings toward these people. Of course there was a God. Of course there was.
    I sighed and told the woman at the desk to give me one ticket to Boston. I then sat down in the gate lobby, and felt a lump in my throat form as I remembered my dad.
    Today, I decided maybe there wasn't a God. Look at what I'd been going through for the past week. First my father died, and then I went through all those damn confusing emotions. Now I go through a day like this. All of that in one week. There was obviously no God, and if there was, why the hell should I respect Him?
    I suddenly remembered what my father had told me about taking the lord's name in vain. He said that I should never disrespect the lord's name. Well that was exactly what I decided to do. I was so angry, every though about my father suddenly was wiped out of my mind.
    I know it was immature, but I was so angry. Just to make myself feel better, I decided to do exactly what my father had told me never to do. I said, over and over again, with about five curses in between each word, “Jesus Christ, Oh My god, Jesus Christ” under my breath, as forcefully and nastily as I possibly could.
    The boiling hot anger I felt in my heart started to grow, although it was somehow relieving. When I decided that I was done cursing His name, a man came and sat down right next to me.
    He was huge. He was at least six feet and nine inches. He had curly salt and pepper hair, a matching nicely trimmed beard, and black sunglasses that were so dark no light at all seemed to reflect off of them.
    He was dressed like he was going to a business meeting or something. He had on a blue button down collared shirt, a red and black striped tie, a navy blue sports coat which was unbuttoned, and khaki pants.
    He looked down at me and smiled. “Missed your flight?”
    “Yes. Uh, how did you know I-”
    “Just the expression on your face. You look like your angry at someone.”
    “Well. Yeah I guess you could put it that way.”
    “Well, who're you angry at?”
    I looked up at the ceiling.
    “Ah. Him. Well, I take it you're religious?”
    “Uh, yeah I guess I am. I mean, I have my doubts some days.”
    The man scratched his beard. He really was weird, I thought. Who the hell just sits down next to a complete stranger in an airport and asks them about their life and their religious beliefs?
    “Why are you angry at the lord?”
    “Well...a lot of reasons I guess.”
    “Like what?”
    I sighed. I might as well tell him. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who would give up. And it wasn't like I was ever going to see him again. “Just because I've been going through a lot lately. I lost some one pretty important to me, and I-”
    “You cannot be angry at Him for your father's death, Mathew.”
    I frowned at him. “What? How do you know my father died? And how do you know my name?”
    “Oh, I know quite a lot about you, Mathew. I know that you're 32 year old, and that you were born on May 12th, 1972. I know that your mother left your father for another man when you were eight, and that she then tried to fight to get custody of you. Your first pet was a black lab named Spud, and he was hit by a car when he wasn't even a year old. You proposed to your girlfriend a year ago, and she reacted by kicking you out of the house, and she hasn't spoken to you since.”
    This guy really did know a lot about me. It was kind of starting to freak me out. “How the hell do you know all of these thing,” I asked in a quivering voice.
    The man took off His sun glasses and gave me a smile as if He had been playing a huge joke on me, and I was just now figuring it out. His teeth weren't just white. I mean, they were, but they were somehow more than just white. They were so white, it seemed almost impossible for them to get any brighter. It was as if each tooth were transparent, and had a small sun in it. They made my eyes water just looking at them.
    But it was His eyes that really caught my attention. They were beautiful. They were gray, but not a dull gray. Some how, they were comforting to look at. And they seemed both old and tired, and young and lively, like a child's eyes, both at the same time. I somehow knew that these eyes had seen everything. And not everything as in everything that'd happened in my life, but everything. Everything that's gone on in our world. I sensed so much power in those eyes. I suddenly understood who He was. But no. That was crazy. He couldn't be....
    “Are you...?”
    “Yes, Mathew. I'm the very person you are angry with.”
    I don't know why, but I knew it was true. Something about those eyes told me that it was true.
    I felt like throwing up. I was in the presence of the most powerful being in the universe, as far as I knew. He'd created us all. Was He here to strike me down? To punish me for cursing His name over and over, just to make myself feel better?
    “I wanted to talk to you about your feelings toward me. I'm not angry with you, Mathew. But I know that you're angry with me. But you have to understand that I had to take your father. It was his time. You cannot hold that against me. And Mathew, everything happens for a reason. You being late for your flight is a great example. I planned on that so that I could come down here to talk to you.”
    “Why didn't you just come to me in a dream or something, like all of those people in the bible.”
    He laughed. Something about His laugh comforted me, and I relaxed a little. He suddenly made me feel like he was just an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time, and now, we were just catching up on each other's lives.
    “You believe that stuff? I don't see the point of talking to people in their dreams. They wouldn't have any reason to believe that it was really me talking to them, and not just a dream.”
    “So does that mean that all of the stories in the bible are nothing more than just stories?”
    “Well, most of them are true, but mostly only the big things. Like Adam and Eve, Moses, and Jesus.”
    “Oh.”
    “Anyway. Mathew, I don't want you to have anymore hard feelings towards me. I need you to understand that I can't just make everything perfect in this world.”
    “But I don't understand. If you're watching over us all of the time, and you have unlimited power, why is there starvation in this world? Why is there murder, and terrorism, and broken families?”
    He gave a long sigh. “When I created civilization, I made a promise to myself that I would not interfere too much with humanity's choices. They wouldn't really be people then. It'd me me making them do everything they did. I created humanity because I created the earth, and I thought that there needed to be some purpose to it. But even I can be foolish sometimes, Mathew. I didn't think ahead enough to realize that they would choose to do horrible things. For a few centuries or so, I seriously thought about breaking the promise to myself, but I then decided that I would rather people to choose to believe in me. But if I interfered too much, people would realize that I was doing it all, and they'd be forced to believe in me. I decided that if you interfere just a little, people won't know that you've done anything at all.”
    “But all of this crime. People's lives are going down hill. The Earth's life is going downhill.”
    Those beautiful eyes filled with pure sorrow. Such deep sorrow that everything that had ever happened to me seemed like nothing, and I suddenly felt ashamed for feeling bad for myself.
    “I understand that Mathew. It pains me to see how people suffer, but I don't feel like people would be able to live their own lives if I gave them too much. I just wish there was something else I could do.”
    I thought about it for a moment, and realized that there really was nothing that could be done without interfering too much. I suddenly felt frustrated for him. “I'm sorry.”
    “Don't be sorry. I just want you to think about what I've told you today. Next time something happens in your life, think about it as a set up for something else to happen. Like I said, everything happens for a reason. But anyway, I should leave you too it now. It seems you're plane is boarding.”
    I looked up. Sure enough, the electronic sign above the gate was flashing saying “Boarding to flight to Boston”. Somehow, during this conversation five and a half hours had passed.
    “Wait. I have one more question.”
    “Well ask it quick then. You don't want to miss your plane again.”
    “What reason is there for my father dieing?”
    He smiled mischievously. “Oh, you'll find out soon enough.”
   
    The next day, at my father's funeral, I clung to every word the priest who was running the funeral said. I got up and made a speech, and told everyone that I was not angry. That everything happened for a reason, and that we'd always find out why soon enough.
    This beautiful woman named Ariel came up to me and said that she thought my speech was incredibly insightful. I thanked her, and we chatted for awhile. Apparently she was a student in my father's English class at the college he taught at. Well, one thing lead to another, and I ended up asking her to dinner.
    I automatically fell in love with her, and now, five years later, we're married with a beautiful two year old daughter named Rebecca. Ariel was Catholic, so our daughter was baptized a catholic, and we attend a catholic church every Sunday, where Rebecca plays the organ.
    I know this may sound like a dumb theory, but I've wondered for the past few years whether or not Ariel was the reason my father had died. After all, we would most likely have never met if it weren't for my father's funeral.
    I now look at life in a completely different way. I look at the big picture of things. I try to keep an open mind whenever anything I don't like happens, and try to find some reason. I find I'm more happy this way. I plan to raise Rebecca having her think the way I do now, not telling her exactly that I had a conversation with God, but I'll try to have the same conversation with her. I now am a proud father, and a happy husband.