I’m Here!

by Al Van Dyk | May 12, 2019 | Parkinson's Sucks

I’m here!

~God

“I’m here. You asked me where have I been. I’m here. I have been waiting, right here where you left me —on a shelf next to your other dusty books. Maybe I should be asking you the same question. Where have you been?

I will get to your questions in due time. First I have a few questions for you. Why did you think that I left you? You seemed to have a handle on things. I set you up with a job, with a view of the lake of all things. Wasn’t the snow beautiful? I kept your car from breaking down even when you were three quarts low and 12,000 miles past your scheduled oil change. I’m not ready to dispatch an Arch-angel every time you pass by a Quick-lube. Somethings have to be on you.

There are a lot of moving parts to this universe and if you were paying attention in your formative years, during the 4th & 7th grades and a good share of the time you spent in high-school, you would know that the sun and the morning stars do not orbit you. You are here at this point in time, for a reason that someday you will understand. Trust me, you are on the path that I put you on. You do still trust me, don’t you? Hold that though.

You have been rather snarky lately and that has to stop. Your family needs you — Lisa needs her husband and the kids still need their father. Get back in the game. I will never ask you to carry a burden that is too heavy for you to carry. This is the point that you are still missing, You are trying to carry it alone. I brought people into your life that want to help. You need to let them. They are my hands and feet to you and your family.

You still aren’t listening, are you? I will get to your questions when you are ready to listen. That never has been your strong suit. I can see that you are moving a little slower than you have in the past, but what are you doing about it? You have two spin bikes in your office and a road bike hanging from the ceiling in your garage. Last I saw you were using the bikes as a shoe rack. Your son can help you get your bike down if you need a hand. It’s on a pulley with a nylon rope. Your gloves are in your helmet. You won’t even get a blister.

I know you’re worried about what the future holds for you and I know that your lovely wife is scared. Maybe you better spend a little less time in the Stuff-Marts and a little more time holding her. You can get by without another… you can fill in the blank. I’m not about to tell you how to live your life. I think you can figure it out. I expect the same from all high functioning adults.

What are you doing up, anyway? You couldn’t sleep? You had questions for me? Now there is a surprise! Did you visit my FAQ pages. The book of Daniel, or Job, would be a good place to start.

That’s what is keeping you awake? That was your question? When will your Voice return? When you learn to listen and have something interesting to say. Now get some sleep.

That went well. Don’t you think, Ivy?…Ivy?

Ivy, get out of my bed. Okay, you can stay, but you will have to sleep on Lisa’s side.

Al and his faithful, but uninvited sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.

Thanks for the reminder, pup. The Voice has been on for twenty seasons, It just seems like it’s an eternity.

Dear God…Where have you been?

by Al Van Dyk | May 13, 2018 | Parkinson's Sucks

Where have you been? People are hurting down here. I’m hurting down here. I guess I still don’t understand what you want from me. This one is on you; your directions weren’t all that clear. I should be a little more grateful, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. I am not looking for a plane pulling a banner, just a door that stays open long enough for me to grab my shoes. If you haven’t noticed, I not as smooth on my feet as I once was. But I’m not bitter about that, at least not as bitter…most days.

A little attention would be nice. Lately, it feels like you took me out into the desert, gave me enough rations for the day, and just left me. Those that I have met along the way have been incredibly generous, but I still have no clue how all the dots connect. By the way, I never did get that gift of patience that I expected. The contentment is a nice perk, but where is the sense of urgency? Did you forget that’s how I’m wired?

Is there a reason that you didn’t just zap me with one of your lightning bolts? I know, that’s so Old Testament, but it is an attention getter. No one would think less of you if you did. Most would say that I had it coming — which I probably still do. Just an idea! My life insurance policies don’t preclude acts of God. At least my wife would be set and not worry anymore. My son has been looking at cars on Craig’s List— he might see the upside. I’ve spent so much time in this barren wasteland, no one will notice that I’m gone.

If there is something you want me to accomplish, I’m getting near the end of the runway. And you know what happens when plane don’t achieve lift before the tarmac ends, don’t you? Let just say; it isn’t pretty. For the record, I didn’t take all the risks and work as hard as I did to end up as a statistic.

If you think I have been holding out on you, you can have all my earthly belongings. You can begin by clearing out my garage. If you have your eye on my zero-turn mower, I will need a goat or something to take care of my lawn. You will have to deal with the township and my homeowner’s association; neither allow residents to keep farm animals in my neighborhood. I would prefer not to be the nut-job who sacrifices his mower on the driveway. My neighbors would disappear faster than my second amendment rights.

I have been told over the years that you want a relationship with me and that you can handle all my cares and worries, my anger and my bitterness, even my silence. Here, take it; it’s yours. It was getting heavy, anyway. It’s up to you to make something beautiful out of dust.

If you are looking for me, I’ll be right here in the wasteland where you left me. As you can imagine, I’m getting restless. I may wander off a bit. I’m taking up a hobby. I met some guy who invited me to hunt jackalope with him; he calls himself Mad Max. He reminds me of an out-of-work actor with a Messiah complex.

Thanks for the book by Pastor Warren; its called a faith walk, not a feelings walk, for a reason.

That was close. Just think, I almost posted this whiny rant.

Thanks for reading and liking – share it if you must!

Ivy ran off to buy a cookbook. She thinks that jackalope are related to jackrabbits. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.

Al and his faithful, but zoologically confused sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.

Ever since her run-in with the lop-eared rabbit that lived in exile in our garage, she has been dying to find out if rabbits taste like chicken.