As luck would have it a funny thing happened last Monday night.
Despite the open road and a van full of good intentions, my noble steed and I coughed and spluttered to a paralyzing halt. Sharing a car whilst playing the orange light on fuel tank game is twice and dangerous and three times as obvious.
With nothing but car keys and a key card I set out on foot, in my mixed netball uniform, to find juice for my thirsty vehicle.
I must've taken a wrong turn at Margaret Ave, because standing where the 24-hour BP ought to be, was a magnificent golden castle, like nothing I'd ever seen. I paused momentarily before strolling right through those oversized off-white gates, in search of a jerry can, petroleum and a cherry ripe. By now my taste buds had made a good case with my integrity.
Upon entering the front door, I was met by a lovely looking lass, dressed all in white, who smiled politely. She motioned with her eyes to a room at the end of a hallway, and then drew a pathway through the cloud with her fingertips. I had no reason to question such instruction, so I strolled on down the hall following the outline she drew for me moments earlier.
As I reached the end of the hall, I stepped into a tiny, messy room, full of tools and books and takeaway coffee cups. Hidden deep in the depths of all this stuff was a man, sitting opposite me in one of Arne Jacobsen's egg chairs.
It was the big man Himself, papa bear, the big kahuna.
He looked nothing like I imagined. Thankfully he wore a shirt with his name embroidered into the fabric, otherwise I would never have known I was about to speak to God.
"Hi!", I said.....
........silence........
"Um...mate I can see you're really busy, it's just that my van ran outta..."
"I know why you're here.", said God confidently. "You have experienced much. You have lived for many moons among my creation and now my son, you have returned."
"yeah....kinda. Actually God, I just ran outta petrol and was hoping to get a few litres or at least borrow a phone....", I replied.
"Tell me, if you please, in one simple word." asked God. "What was it like?"
"Frustrating", I remarked, "but I kinda knew it was going to run out eventually...."
"No no no!", boomed God. "Life?""What was it like to be alive?"
Can you believe it. Here I am, monday night after mixed netball, run outta petty, stubled across the almighty on the way to the BP, and He's asking me what it's like to be alive. In one lonely word He's asking me what it's like to be awash in the infinite, to be a brush in His ever changing masterpiece, in the constant state of flux, in the exponential evolution of the universe"
Realising this was a moment for careful deliberation I sat on the floor and thought about it. I dreamt about it, laughed about it, forgot about it, then discovered something about it, remembered something about it, decided something about it.
It never arrives I thought.
It just happens.
There It goes again.
It is just It, without the is.
But is, just is
And I just am.
With one deep breath, I stood up and looked God squared in the eye. I could tell this was important to Him, so in my most official voice I said....
"and"
