I finally called God back. He'd been leaving messages for a long time. Even trying to get through by beeper and tea leaves and carrier pigeon and smoke signal and pictures in puddles. "Kid, your line's been busy for ages, why don't you have call waiting?" The thing is, I have caller ID and sometimes when I see it's God I send it straight to voicemail. I've been too busy talking to the voices in my head, the entire asylum locked away up there shrieking a blue streak.
A friend came over for lunch the other day and wanted to know how I felt about Jesus. She wants to join a church but doesn't know how she feels about the main guy. "Oh I LOVE Jesus," I said. I even got 'Jesus Calling' at one point but hid it in my underwear drawer before finally giving it away. Maybe I'll get it again, though.
"I'm so jealous!" my friend said. "You love Jesus and you're JEWISH!"
"Oh, all the Jewish girls love Jesus," I said. "It's one way we can rebel against our mothers."
"What about the long haired Jesus who destroyed the temple?" she asked.
"Even better," I said. "A bad boy destroying shit who loves me unconditionally! What could be better?" We laughed. I hope she joins the church. Jesus would just love HER. She's so funny and beautiful and I bet eventually she'd rub oil on his feet and let him rub it on hers.
Anyway, Jesus hasn't called me, I'm still waiting on that, but God has. And he's been leaving messages. In the form of dreams and answers and phrases and faces. In the form of tantrums and tears and rages and the calm that follows, the land that rises up to meet my jump off the cliff. In the form of the voice inside of me that said, "It's time to trust me now. You don't know what's going to happen. Anything can and anything will. But I will be there with you and help you figure it out and put on the pot of coffee when it does." This is great news. This is the kind of call I want to return. Keep leaving messages, God. I'll keep trying to listen.