Inventing God

Here is a chat between a grown up daughter and her dying Mom about God:

What about God?

What about who? God?

Yes, you know. The Big Kahuna. All Knowing. Light of the World. Imperial Majesty of the Universe. Creator.

Sounds like him, yes.

Do you believe?

Well, that’s two questions isn’t it? I mean there’s the God person-entity and then there is believing. I DO believe. If I went around not believing I’d contradict BE-ing. I’d negate existing. Does a flower believe? Of course. Otherwise it would cease being a flower. It might wake up one morning an eensy weensy sprout, see the sun overhead, stretch down its tiny green flower feet and wiggle in deeper, drink up water and grow. It believes.

But what about God? The heaven master, the rule maker, the judge. The God guy?

Him? Hmm. We invent what we require in order for believing to be fun, like the flower stretching its little root toes to grow. How could we habitate this place without a purpose? We can’t. Impossible. So, we invent God. Not that He invented us. I think history didn’t get that part right. It’s the other way round.

So the God that sees what we do and banishes some to Hell, others to heaven. That’s bunk?

I think some writers have very vivid imaginations.

So, you’d say God is dead?

I think God is waiting for us to need Him again. Sad thing, I think we stopped inventing Him too long ago. What we are left with is a rerun.

Well, I do believe in God, a nice kind of God. I like to think that God is comfort.

That’s your mother, dear. Not God.

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About Mrs. Fitz

Hello! I'm Michele Fitzpatrick, a Chicago writer. Like our town, a work in progress. As a journalist, teacher and writing coach I think all of us live our stories and sharing them creates moments that remind us we're connected. And that is enough.
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