an open letter

Dear God,

It's one of those Sunday mornings where I'm bouncing in my chair at 6:00 a.m. and I feel like a coiled spring ready to shoot off into some unknown direction. I've had this feeling for about a week, and I don't know where all the energy is coming from. At the same time, life feels really complicated right now. I've got a lot on my mind this morning and I was wondering if you could help me figure a few things out.

It seems like there are all these rules to follow in life, you know? Like each person is made to push through life with a certain set of assumptions and will only tolerate living a certain way -- like Rachel for example. When she didn't get what she wanted, she'd blow a gasket and complain that the whole world was out to get her. She didn't like it when I left my clothes on the floor and was constantly complaining about how she had to clean up after me. I don't mind having clothes on the floor. That means they need to be washed. I am easily distracted and sometimes the 18 inch distance from where I change to the hamper is just TOO FAR. You know what I mean, don't you God? I don't know if You have to do laundry, but if You did, I'd be willing to bet you wouldn't always put the dirty clothes in the hamper. You know how to relax and not worry about things that aren't important. But Rachel, she was always complaining, even though they were my clothes and I did all the laundry. It wasn't like I was taking her clothes out of the hamper and putting them on the floor! And! I always pick up the clothes on the floor when it's time to do laundry. So -- her rules ran into my rules and there was conflict. Well, OK. I'll be honest. There was bitterness and conflict for her because she was cleaning up after me. I didn't really care either way, except when she was yelling at me and telling me that I was being mean to her because I wouldn't put my clothes in the hamper.

I just couldn't get it, God. It doesn't say anywhere in the Bible "Thou shalt not be messy in thine bedroom, lest thee piss off thine girlfriend." Where did she get off thinking her rules are more important than mine?

Alright, I know. It's all about open and honest communication in a relationship, and I should have been more elevated and agreeable and worked to contain my dirty jeans and sweaty t-shirts and stinky socks. Here's the thing, though -- Rachel was big on making deals. The only way she knew how to ask for what she wanted was to make a deal. She'd say: "How about you keep your clothes off the floor for a whole week and then we'll go out to dinner to celebrate?" And I'd say, "Yeah, but I'd take us out for dinner anyway. That isn't a very good deal." And then she'd get mad again. I couldn't see why, because since she was unemployed all the time (or working for practically no money), she'd offer me these deals where either I did something to make her happy OR I did something to make her happy. And if I tried to make a deal with her like say: "You stop drinking a case of beer a week and maybe we can afford to buy new shoes," and you'd think I'd asked her to pull out her toenails one by one.

It isn't a crime to like drinking a few beers every once and a while, you know. It isn't a crime.

So God, You've got that rule book up there, right? Does it say anything about which rules you're supposed to live by when you make the mistake of falling in love with someone who hurts you? I mean, if we're going on strict principles, I should have never loved Rachel in the first place. I was a pretty disobedient kid, you know, and past the age of 14, I had a really hard time believing that any of Your rules had anything to do with my life. So I ignored them. And I ignored You. And I felt guilty about it, but I'm Catholic, so I was used to feeling guilty about everything anyway. Why not have some fun?

In any case, I've broken so many rules now that trying to reel back in the past twenty years is out of the question. I've learned so much about life, I know that the rules I grew up with aren't all there is to You. Seriously, if God is Love, then it doesn't matter if I loved a man or a woman. I Loved. Then I was hurt very badly. And I can't imagine that was part of the Plan for My Life when I was born, but what the hell. It happened.

So if you've got a minute, I'd love a copy of the rule book that hasn't been printed yet. The one that gives me permission to know You're bigger than they say. The one that affirms omnipresence is best interpreted in the heart and that we have rituals for ourselves, not for You. The one that tells me I'm not a failure, despite my bad judgement. When I look back at everything that happened because I loved her, God, I'm really sad -- but I can't see that I'd have lived any other way. You're the one who made me this stubborn. You're the one who made me this straightforward. You're the one who gave me the capacity to Love.

I still don't know much what to do with all the sadness and grief in my heart, God -- all the leftovers of the hurt we inflicted on each other because we were living by different rules are still stopped up in bottles in my heart. I'm trying to clean this out before it all goes rotten.

Can you give me a hand with this, God? Do you have a magical cleaning solution that will help me scrub away the lingering doubts and ragged edges of sadness? Is there a set of directions anywhere to help me plot out the disaster that was my life so I can avoid making the same mistakes again?

Whatever it is that you've got in that book up there, I'd love a copy.

Thanks sincerely.

Love,

Michèle