Journal Entries from June 1990
God, when the job at hand is more than I can handle,
God, when the pressure weighs heavy upon me,
God, when things are out of my hands,
when I am helpless, lost and looking for answers,
God, when I’ve buried my head in the sand,
sulked in my sorrows and wondered aloud
in a roomful of sufferers, selfishly cried “Why me?”
God, when I don’t know the answers,
God, when I think I need to know
as a matter of survival, life and death,
God, the power and the glory
and the answer, God, is yours.
~~~~
Parul is not happy with her mother today. They don’t want her going to India —because of money, because of safety, some other time maybe —and she’s disappointed. She threw some shoes at her mother and walked out of the house, eleven miles to 520 Stewart. She got rained on several times along the way.
She’s never been anywhere, she says, and now, forget it, she doesn’t want to go to India. “One day we’ll go together,” I said, and she said, “No, I don’t want to go.”
I brought her to her uncle’s house. She’s not sure what will happen next. She’s even having second thoughts about medical school.
“This too...” I said, but she wasn’t ready to believe me.
Tomorrow, God, I pray for Parul.
~~~~
“I talk to God a lot. In the shower, in the car. Some people might call it prayer, but I like to think of it as a kind of thought process, a figuring out.”
“Does he hear you?”
“God? Sure. God hears us whether we’re talking to him or not.”
“Hey, Joe, come on, what makes you think God would take the time to listen to you?
“I don’t know, Jim. I don’t know why. I just know he does.”
“How do you know?”
“He answers.”
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