Trust me. It's been one of those years when I thought God was hiding under my bed afraid to come out even when I shouted the loudest of bids, the loudest of prayers. Ever had one of those years when you were sure God was out laughing about with Hollywood celebrities and standing behind one of the judges at Dancing with the Stars? Perhaps She/He/It was kanoodling with Christine O'donnell about wiccanery and spinning a new dervish at round three of Alaskan shenanigans where Todd, Sarah, and their child prodigies are the stars of the biggest farce in history. Ever wonder? I do.
This year, I had a detached retina and had to wake up each day to the Today Show spinning about what new child was abducted, the terrible economic debacle that never ends, and what terrible devastation was hitting Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Iraq...not to mention what wuz up wif Lindsay and her middle finger. I prayed for world peace and ate ice cream and held my eye so it wouldn't move. Then last December, I slipped on ice going to work and my entire Tibia (the big bone down there) came out. I underwent surgery; twelve pins and a plate later, I brought in the new year with Morning Joe and ice and more prayers. The news by then had dulled my senses...more killings, more abuse to sell, sell, sell the media. Oi vay.
I prayed some more. In May I had female surgery to remove a benign tumor and to get general housecleaning "down there." The oil crisis kept me company and I kept peaking under my bed to see if God would come out to help. I mean, really, couldn't He/She/It see what was happening. Doesn't God have a flat screen?
Now I get eye injections so my left eye can heal from several Fuchs Spots that are making it impossible to see. I pray more. But now, I realize why I may be going blind. Television. Internet. Blah. Blah. Blah. I'm going outside to listen to the birds...I think they're called that, right?...and to listen for the wind...it's wind, right? Perhaps say an Om and see if it catches the signal of some satellite nearby.
God? You there?