“But listen to me. For one moment
quit being sad. Hear blessings
dropping their blossoms
How many times do we go in circles refusing to willingly break free. Until death does the favor or so we think. We refuse to believe in the tangible reality of the hereafter inspite of knowing how unjust and helpless this world is.
We never stop to think that may be just may be the bottomless pit of our desires can only be quenched with something just as endless. Something that is beyond the reach of this fleeting world.
And which isn’t futile to pursue?
We blame God for all the bad around us, for raped dreams, for orphaned ambitions, for oppressed second lives, half dead parenthoods as if its the first time the world has been so brutal.
As if this world was made for anything but this. “Where is God?, for crying out loud,” instead of dear “God, I need you, where should I be?
I am perpetually surprised at our ability to question God when our hearts are contracting but refuse to even acknowledge His presence for every blessing we are savoring, for every step forward, for every kite not yet devoured by the wind it plays with, the missed disasters even when the last recorded sin was not accompanied by a repentance.
But like a too well memorized sonnet we never forget to wonder where He is?
We don’t even feel the burden of our record books on our shoulder forgetting that the pen of the angels never run out of ink. Or deeds to record.
I ask myself why it is so easy to forget that this life and every drop of blood in our veins was accounted for, just like our deeds will be.
I’ve been investigating my jaded criminal nafs across the table. But it won’t confess. It rules me with an iron fist.
“Don’t you taste the regret of pending virtues and of sins committed like clockwork?”