Saved time is not insured by the FDIC because there is no such thing. Saved time is just time used differently. Your supply dwindles no matter how you choose to spend it.
“True. How are you going to use yours today?” God popped in, casual as a neighbor.
“I’m going to stare out the window and resent incursions into my space or thoughts.” I crossed my arms, wishing God would give me a little more warning sometimes. God laughed, but then did a double-take.
“Wait. Are you talking about me?”
“Of course not!” I protested vigorously. “Feeling a little insecure? You’re the reason I wait. You’re not an incursion; you’re magic. Granted, it’s dark, rude magic sometimes. But mostly welcome.” My voice may have revealed a touch of ambivalence.
“Mostly?” God teased, unfazed and clearly not insecure.
“Yeah. It depends on mirrors, memories, seasons. It depends on how ready I am to be one with the universe, to be confident that life has meaning, to accept my fate gracefully. Stuff like that.”
“Makes sense,” God said. “I don’t mind being quiet once in a while.”
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t want YOU to be quiet. Be loud. Beat the drums. Fling a double rainbow around your neck. Grow vast fields of grain. Hatch eggs. Lift off with the latest telescope or dive down into your oceans and find what’s dying. Heal things.”
“My, my,” God said, facetiously. “Those are some tall orders.”
“I know,” I admitted. “But it’s best if we all keep busy. Especially you.”
“Wait,” God laughed again. “A minute ago, you were planning to stare out the window all day.”
“Yeah. Well, Emerson said ‘A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds’. And remember? I said I was waiting for you.”
But was I? Anyone who’s tried waiting around for The Real to reveal itself, for the Self to gather strength, for the soul to lead, for the heart to extend compassion knows it is a fraught undertaking. Some of us pretend uncertainty so we don’t have to do the good work right in front of us. Others are mean and selfish in the name of a contrived and certain god.
Real God slapped her legs and stood. “I’ll take you at your word,” she said. “The wait’s over. Let’s go.”
I lowered the leg rest on my recliner, took God’s bony black hand, and said, “Fine. What wonders will we work today? What miracles will we perform?”
God punched my shoulder, “Let’s start with being nice,” she said. “Then we’ll see what else might be possible.”
Short visits with an honest God 