Tuesday, April 5, 2011

An Easter Story

            “She was the bright and beautiful blond.  He was the gorgeous, gregarious jock.  Everyone said they were a match made in heaven—at least that’s what we thought.”
            “But ya know, they say children are better off in divorce if it’s not a happy home.”
            “I wonder.”  THUD . . . THUD!  “Did you hear that?  What was it—an earthquake?”
* * *
            “Why do I have to drive this old, brown jalopy.  It almost left me high and dry this morning.  Man—late for work again.  Thank goodness for AAA.  My manager just got a new red Mustang, all tricked out.  His hubcaps cost more than my car.  Why should he have it and not me?  I make as much in sales, and he’s such a jerk.  I deserve it more than he does.”
            “Maybe ole leadfoot will roll the thing.”
            “Ha, ha.  Now that’s a wicked thought!” 
            “Hey, by the way, you should see that latest bunch o’ pics I downloaded.  Man, you are going to love these . . .”  THUD . . . THUD . . . THUD.  “What was . . . Hey, are they doing construction in the building somewhere or what?”
* * *
            “What a beautiful, sunny morning.  I’m going out for a jog, Mom.”
            “Not in that you aren’t, young lady.  Get something decent on.”
            “What IS your problem?  All the kids wear the same thing—I’m no different.  And it’s hot.”
            “I don’t care.  I’ll not have a daughter of mine dressing like THAT!  Now get back to your room and change into sweats right this second!”
            “I hate, you.  I wish I’d never been born!”
            “The feeling is mutual, you horrible, ungrateful thing!  I’m telling your father!”  THUD . . . THUD.  “What . . . (sigh) Oh, I need to get myself together; the gardener must be here already.
 * * *
            “The 7-11 at Chestnut and Royal was robbed at gunpoint again this morning.  The robber made off with $50.00 cash and a six pack.  What he left in his wake was one dead teenage girl.  Her boyfriend is in critical condition at Mercy with a gunshot wound to the chest.  Update at eleven.”  THUD . . . THUD . . . THUD.  “Hey, did you guys hear that?  Something happen in the control room?  I hope that didn’t go out over the radio.”
* * *
            “Lord, You could have called thousands of angels to Your rescue.  Why did it have to be like that—so much suffering, so much pain?  Why didn’t those wicked Jews and heartless Romans understand who You really were?”  THUD . . . THUD.  “It’s just not fair.  I mean . . . if I had’ve been there, I would have recognized who You were.  Look at all the miracles You did.  I mean . . . really.  I wouldn’t have been one of those creeps yelling, ‘Crucify Him, crucify Him.’  I wouldn’t have been the one to nail You to the cross.  It makes me mad and sad all at the same time, Lord.”  THUD . . . THUD . . . THUD.  “What is that incessant noise?  I’M TRYING TO HAVE MY PRAYER TIME HERE!”
            “Lean a little closer, child.”
            “Who said that?”
            “It’s Me.”
            “Me?  Me who?—You mean . . . ME?”
            “Yes, that’s right.”  THUD . . . THUD . . . THUD.
            “You mean . . . You actually showed up to my devotions.  THUD . . . THUD . . . THUD . . . THUD.  “Could You do something about that noise, so I can hear You better.”
            “But you’re the one that has made the noise.”
            “No really, it’s—well, actually, I don’t know what it is.”
            “It’s your sin.”
            “My what?  But, Lord, I’m in the middle of devotions, and it really does sound more like someone is hammering nails! . . . Lord, are You still here?”
           by Lilly Green