By God, There Will Be Dancing

I am sitting in a quiet bedroom with God. We are alone - the two of us. I am perched on the edge of a four poster bed and my legs are dangling off the side. God is in a rocking chair across the room and She’s knitting. God knits, it turns out. She also rides a Harley, but never while knitting.

I am pissed at God, so I’m glaring at her while She rocks and knits.

She won’t ask me what’s wrong. I’m waiting for Her to ask. I’m dying for Her to ask. I sigh. I breathe as deeply and loudly and with as much angst as possible.

Nothing from Her. Nothing disturbs Her peace, nothing breaks Her concentration. She is not curious.

So I just start.

Why would you say all of those things about caring for orphans and make me love them so much and then lead me on a seven year wild goose chase and then leave me empty handed? This adoption's going to fall through, isn't it? You’re going to leave me empty handed, aren’t you? Aren’t you? I know you are.

Please don’t. If you do, that’s it for us. I’m not kidding. I’ll quit trying not to be a jerk. I’ll quit writing. I’ll quit talking to you and caring about other people and smiling so much. I’ll spend all my money on fancy make-up and couches and I’ll spend all my time watching Real Housewives of Orange County. No. Housewives of NEW JERSEY. Take that. I’m serious. Friendship with you is too exhausting. I’m going to have to quit you, based on principle and utter confusion. If you don’t pull through for me this time- it’s atheism for me. Atheism. I’m so serious.

God keeps knitting. Then She smiles and holds Her stitch for a moment. She looks up at me with her soft crinkly eyes and She says:

Honey. You are so angry. I understand. I love you so much. Would you like me to stop knitting so that we can talk about all of this?”

I think for a minute and look at the knitting in her lap. I gaze at the part that’s done. It’s breathtaking. All blue and green and hot pink and gold and silver. At first the colors seem to swirl wildly but then, suddenly, I recognize a pattern. The pattern is me. I am beautiful. Swirly, wild, and beautiful.

No, I Say. Don’t stop. Keep knitting.

Because She is knitting my life, of course. I am what Her hands are working on. And I want Her to concentrate. I still trust Her.

God? I say. I’m going to dance. While you knit, I’m just going to dance. I don’t really know what else to do.

And God looks up one last time and I see that Her eyes are twinkling this time.

She says:

Oh, Good. That’s all I’ve ever wanted you to do, Sweetheart. You dance and I'll keep knitting. It's going to be beautiful, Honey. I promise. Just Dance. I've got this.

Kay, I say.