Easter is upon us, a glorious and promising time of year. Decision time, too.
I gave up God for Lent, remember? For forty weekdays, beginning on Ash Wednesday, I tried being a non-believer. Not an agnostic and not an atheist, but not one of the faithful, either. And, much to my surprise, there wasn’t a backlash, no reprisals — unless you consider the email about burial insurance a warning? I still have all my parts, the sun’s shining, and life stumbles on.
I expected thunderbolts, frankly. The fact there were none could be interpreted two ways, though: God wrote me off long ago or there is no God or the old dude is just biding His time. Okay, three ways. I still have no idea what to believe, however, there’s been no real progress either way.
One unexpected revelation, if you’re interested. When there’s bad stuff, car accidents and layoffs and such, that’s punishment, wrath from on high. The good stuff, the steadfast loyalty of friends and a car that runs, those things are bait. Enticements. They may be Heaven sent, but they’re loaners. I’ll pay for them, one way or another.
So I believe in God, all right; I believe He’s out to get me.
And while I can’t hide, I can make a run for it. Especially in the new White Castle sneakers from Vans and New York streetwear brand Supreme. How’s that for a segue? Jerseys, beanies, and work jackets will be part of the collection, too. Maybe I’ll go the full monty and disguise myself as a White Castle employee named Tina.
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