Ne Decorem

we pray

Every morning, 9:43, we pray. Every afternoon, 12:06, we pray. Every night, 6:32, we pray. In respectable homes most people would say that this is too much, I’d agree if I knew any other life.

 

Mother has always been a feeble woman, but a God-fearing servant.

She used to tell me every night “even the stars came out to protect you” and kiss me on the forehead. This stopped when everything went to Hell.

 

“Why do you do that?” Callie asks me.

“Do what?”

“Why do you pray if there’s nothing listening?”

 

I take a moment to evaluate the question at hand, roll it over my tongue, let it resonate. It’s perfectly sound to be curious of the inevitable and unseen. The truth being, if you ever try to explain your religion to some one, you will sound insane.

 

“I don’t know,” I turn to her, “I just have to believe that there’s someone there.”

 

➤

 

My brother Joseph is a disappointment.

 

“You can’t listen to what they’re feeding you. It’s all a lie.” He grips me by the shoulders, his eyes are dead. A shiver enters the room and wraps around us like a hug.

 

“There is nothing out there.” He says indefinitely.

 

“How do you know?”

“If there is a God, we wouldn’t have lost her.”

 

➤

 

Callie lifts her perfect eyebrows.“I don’t understand.”

 

“That’s kind of the point-”

She puts her phone down, “But why? We can see everything else but we can’t see a so called God? Is he too much of a coward to show himself?”

 

I can feel the words in my throat, stuck, begging.

“I don’t know.”

 

“So you admit that there is no God?"

“I admit that there are things that I do not know, we aren’t supposed to know everything.”

 

My stomach wretches, I’m a perfect illustration to her as somebody who’s known nothing but not-knowing her whole life. I think she pities me sometimes, I’d pity me.

 

➤

 

I still remember the day it happened.

It was very sunny, maybe even beautiful. I passed family after family on the street, some of them fighting, some loving, one group barely speaking. I thought to myself- “Is this it? Is this all there is to life? One God, one husband, one family?”

 

I remember this when people tell me that things happen for a reason. I still think it’s my fault, I thought it was all so boring. I thought the seemingly “Godly” ideal of life was a tempered down waste of what the world had to offer. How could this be it?

 

Like he will sometimes do, God answered.

 

➤

 

“Where is he?” Callie asks, no longer caring for anyone who wanted to take a listen.

My mom used to tell me that God was in the wind, even though we could never see it we always felt it. We knew the wind was there when it hit us or blew the leaves away, the subtle breezes and shifting seasons.

 

“I think that’s something you need to figure out for yourself.”

Callie found her God in pieces of paper, the gracious placing of words.

 

➤

 

My mother died on June 27, 2009.

 

Dad locked us in the car, we sat and cried, the rain poured and it disgusted me.

How dare it rain when we needed the sun? Was God and space and time and life's unanswerable questions all in that storm? Did I pay close enough attention? Would we ever truly know?

 

Jacob turns to me with tear stained eyes, we’re just sitting here now. The three of us too scared to speak to one another, too fragile to touch. He tells me everything I need to know in one look, in one glance. The name Anna means “graceful”. Something Aunt after Aunt has attempted to explain to me but ultimately means that I must find out what is grace to me, myself.

The answer to everything comes simply: we may never know.

(By: unknown)