Sometimes, You Need to Think About What You Are Saying

A good friend of mine, who spends each April mourning her mother, sent me this email:

My cubemate's husband was in a horrific motorcycle accident on Sunday, and airlifted to Indy. Turns out, he didn't break anything or have any internal bleeding, just cuts and bruises, especially to his face (he went through his motorcycle's windshield). So he was REALLY REALLY LUCKY. And I'm very happy for her that he was - they're a lovely couple and they have big hearts and are just...they're very nice.

But all morning, as she has recounted (over and over AND OVER) for coworkers what happened, the conversation never fails to turn into THIS:

"Well, God must have big plans for him...."

You know what? I get that it was scary and that your faith made the whole thing easier for you, and that you feel fortunate (and maybe even survivor's guilt) that it turned out SO WELL and EVERYONE I work with is just SO READY to also believe it wasn't anything but blind luck. I get it. I do. And that's fine. You're entitled to believe that and take comfort in it.

Guess their god didn't have any big plans for my Mom.

That last line kills me. It kills me because I can picture her head tilting forward a little bit in sadness, her voice thickening up with tears, and that unspoken sentence afterwards: My mom, whom I love all my heart, who was my first love, who I really, really need right now, just wasn't special, huh?

I get it. None of her coworkers are trying to make my friend cry, none of them are trying to say that her mom wasn't special, and likely all of them would be at least embarrassed upon hearing what her thoughts on that are. They're not trying to be hurtful, they just are.

The fact of the matter is, if God saves some, then he kills others. If he has "special plans" for some, then he does't have any plans for others. And what makes this guy so much more worthy than my friend's mom, or all the people who died in the tsunami in Japan, or in Indonesia or in New Orleans or in the Holocaust or at Hiroshima? Those people, I guess, just weren't special enough for God.

The little sparrow in the field is special to God, it says so right in the Bible, but no my friend's mom. This guy on a motorcycle is so special!, but not the children who die of abuse and neglect and disease and starvation and war. They're not special. Just the sparrow and this guy on a motorcycle.

Really, this is an image of God, up there in Heaven, looking down on us saying, "this one, not that one, her child, but not your mother, him, but not you . . ."

That is so much more comforting than no god at all? Really?

Heard on the Bus

Usually, the driver of the bus I take in to work is an Italian from New York City. You know the sort, thick accent, mustache, big close-knit family, traditional Italian name, eats only Italian food- and Catholic. Seriously, this guy could teach the Pope a thing or two about being Catholic.

At least three times a week, this fundamentalist woman spends the entire ride trying to save his soul. Italian driver takes this very well, "mm-hmm"ing in all the right places, deftly deflecting invitations to services and socials and generally giving Miss Manners a run for her money.

Today was different.

Maybe it was the ice raining from the sky. Maybe he'd finally had enough. Maybe it was just Monday.

Italian driver was talking to another passenger and the latest house fire came up. Turns out, that was Italian driver's sister's house. The house, and all their possessions, burned to the ground, and now she, her husband and their five children are living at Italian driver's house, with his wife and his four children.

Fundamentalist woman interrupts with, "Do you have a big house?"

Italian driver says, "I guess so, but it doesn't seem that way with seven extra people in it."

Fundamentalist woman replies, "Yes, but your house is big, right? There's room for everyone?"

Italian driver says, "Well, nobody's sleeping in the garage, if that's what you mean."

Fundamentalist woman says, in a tone of absolute triumph, "See, that's why God gave you such a big house! God is good!"

At this point, everyone on the bus is somewhere between bemused and befuddled, but Italian driver- who's had five extra children under ten in his house for a week- has had enough.

"You know what, lady? God didn't give me a big house. I worked for that house. I saved for years for that house, and then I moved from New York City to [redacted] just so I could have a bigger house and a yard for my kids. Nobody gave me anything!"

At this point, Fundamentalist woman tries to interrupt, but Italian driver is having none of it.

"And another thing- if God gave me a big house eight years ago just so I could cram my sister and her husband her kids into it after her house burned down, why didn't God just make sure her house didn't burn down? Seems like the long way around to give me a big house, doncha think?"

Well, yes, actually I do.

[edit: this was initially double posted. blogger is wonky this morning.]