"You know there can't be a God, because if there was, we would not have war, pestilence, disease, or hatred plaguing our world."
Sigh. I allowed my irritation to bubble up enough to lay down a layer of snark:
"Yeah, because we can't be responsible for our own actions. We HAVE to have a God to stop us from pillaging and hating and raping each other and our earth. We all want to have a voice, but none of us want to be held responsible for our own actions. Therefore, there can't be a God, because he does't reach down and stop me whenever I go and do something hateful and stupid. Maybe instead of asking why God would allow all these bad things from happening if he existed, why not ask ourselves as a race of free-thinking and independent choice makers why all these bad things happen while we coexist as a human race created by and parented by God? Why don't WE do something about it? I guess it's just easier to blame and forsake someone else. Outright proclaim that there is no God, but admit freely that if there were you would be perfectly happy giving up free will and choice for perfect peace and euphoria. Am I right? I guess when my 18 year old goes in the ditch in his car because he was driving 85 in a 55 on ice, he should blame me because I was not right there in the car forcing his foot down on the break. Because, everyone knows a good parent would make sure no bad choices would ever be made. Maybe because I am such a bad parent, allowing my 18 year old to make choices on his own, I don't exist. That must be it. Pft. I'm such a silly."
Frankly, I love that I have free will. I love that I have opinions and can choose how to live. I love that I can wrap my arms around someone and give them a hug and be able to give them a little tiny bit of happiness. I love having faith in knowing that what I do here will impact what I will experience in the hereafter. I love thinking and knowing in my heart that the end is not really the end. I am sad that babies are abused and killed. I am deeply sicked by the hurt inflicted on one person my another. It makes me so sad to the point that if I do not focus on my faith, I will be reduced to tears and despair. I don't, however, blame God. I identify with him as a parent. I see our race through his eyes and there is nothing that would make me want to take his place. I am sad with him, for him and it drives me to want to be better, to tell the unbelievers that he is here, he is present and we all have a place in his heart and in his home. All of us have the power to make ourselves better. We have to CHOOSE the right path, but I know even if we don't, we are still loved and welcomed if only we have faith in him and what he is. I try to identify with God in terms of my own life as a parent. I tell my children not to do drugs, not to smoke, not to drive fast, lie, be a bully, I tell them not to judge others and to be a loving person in all things. But, my children have the power to choose for themselves. At this point, my oldest does smoke, he does do occasional drugs, he does drink, he does drive too fast and he is mean to people sometimes. I cannot stop him from making these choices. I gave him the guidelines to follow and it is up to him to choose to do the right thing. Does that make me any less real? Do I love him any less? If he did not believe I existed would I love him any less? If he blamed me for getting a speeding ticket would I love him any less? If he thought every single thing he did wrong in the world was my fault would I love him any less? No. If nothing else I ache for him more. I worry, I cry, I want to hold him and protect him and tell him over and over that I loved him and I wanted him to be here with me. That's God. That's what he does over every single one of us. Our trials and tribulations are making us grow, they are making us grow up, grow stronger and making us believe that we are the secondary power to make things happen in our lives.
My sister was killed several years ago leaving my nephew for me to raise. I loved her so much. She was my very best friend and not a day goes by that I don't think of her. I worry that she is dissapointed in me. That I did a horrible job with her son and I know she is sad that he doubts God now. I think he blames God for taking away his mother. On the day she died, she had just left the bank making the very last payment on her car. After years of struggling and strife, she had managed to be debt free. On her way home she was singing at the top of her lungs and praising God for helping her achieve this wonderful goal. She was trying to peek around a plow truck on a snowy march morning and was struck head on by a van and killed instantly. Instantly. God took her in a swoop of peace and jubilation, because he knew that if she lived even 1 minute after the crash, her first thoughts would be of her son and how he will get through this. My sister was also bipolar and manic depressive, sometimes swinging from one emotion to the next so violently that she would forget what she was doing or what to do next. She wanted desperately to have a relationship and be loved intimately, but she was so strong willed and independent that no 1 man would stay in her life for more than a few months. Her son suffered this. He was angry and was starting to do things that were beyond her control. She often talked about needing help getting him straightened out, that she was scared she was losing him to anger. Then, she died and Dean came to live with us. Where my sister was devout in her faith in God, I was undecided. Sitting on my fence wondering what path is the right path. Never being able to find a comfortable place in church. Libby had all those answers. She was so wise and wonderful that way. I unfortunately lacked in that talent; however, she immersed Dean in it and gave him a very good foundation in faith. Where she was lacking, I think I was able to provide for Dean. He has an uncle who is so loving to me and to his children, especially Dean. He has his shortcomings as we all do, but he would do anything for that boy and he would never leave him. No man ever did that for him or his mother before. He got discipline, or as much as I was able to give him. Guidelines. I'm not saying I did everything right. I struggle every single day with the things I feel I've done wrong, but I tried to be there and to teach him right and let him know I loved him more than the world. He is my son as much as he was my sisters son, but he is his own person. He makes his own decisions as do all my children. Just like God, all I can do is sit back and wait, pray and have faith that he will be everything he is meant to be and know that there is a reason things turned out the way they did. maybe that's why Libby had to die. Maybe her job was done. She gave Dean everything that she could and it was time for someone else to take over. Maybe he would have ended up in a bad place with all his anger. Maybe he needed to see a father who loves and supports through thick and thin, who won't pack up and leave when things get hard. Maybe he needed this family. He needed to see how things are suppose to be and what kind of a man he should be. He is probably reading this thinking he got nothing from us, but I got so much from him because I grew up too. I learned how to deal with my own anger, how to deal with big issues like drinking, smoking and sex. Maybe I did it wrong with Dean, but I know I can handle it better with the others. If nothing else, I know I can handle it and I can get through it. These are the reasons I look for when things are hard. I miss my sister. she was my very best friend in the world. I could go to her with anything and there was never judgement or disdain. Just love. I like to think I will see her again, happy and healthy and I want more than anything for her son to join us . So, If I'm wrong and there is no God, I just wasted some time here on earth believing and having hope for something wonderful. If I'm right, I know where I will be after I die. I love knowing that and it makes me a better person.
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