The Devine Conversation

"Are you there, God? It's me." The silence said he wasn't, so Joe put the phone down after several agonizing minutes. The dream played out in his drained mind after waking up from another unsettled sleep. Joe is walking through a deserted town of tall, brick, empty buildings and vacant lots filled with debris. It is night, the empty, trash-filled streets, with wild animals snarling in dark alleyways and the wind whipping up strange smells, and he heads to a street corner with a phone booth. A street lamp projects a sinister-looking gray light over it while bats pick off moths lured into its light. He enters the phone booth and immediately encounters a urine smell. It sets him back a little, but like a robot or someone in a trance, he continues on this dream adventure. He discovers that when he picks up the handset, it is not connected to the phone. He holds it up to his ear and watches as the line dangles freely below him like a cat's tail. Soon static comes through the receiver, and with the wind blowing through the door of the dilapidated booth, making ungodly whistling sounds, he picks up a rasping voice.

"Why didn't you call me?" God asked. You have a phone, pick it up and dial 0."

"I tried, I swear!" Joe responded. The same response from the same dream that repeats itself, that seems never to find an ending. And after this brief conversation, he wakes up.

It is Sunday, and Joe is soon walking down the fractured sidewalk, avoiding faces that pass. The haggard-looking faces of people like him, who look through him, seem to know or he thinks they know that he has talks with God. So he avoids their eyes, and he continues on this trek. Joe walks up the numerous steps to the Church's entrance. The last time he was here, a feeling of hope encased you and gave you strength. The people he watched as he bashfully walked through the door and encountered smiled, shook hands, and showed love. Not just to Joe but to each person they unflinchingly approached. Now, with the earth unleashing its punishment on the people with floods and hurricanes, and with corrupt politicians making the rich richer and Presidents pardoning crooks that inflicted harm on its overworked citizens, the Church has a harder time deciding its role. Sadness pervaded him as he walked in. Sadness was everywhere inside. The worn appearance, exuding the smell of decay and carelessness, now greets you. His lack of attendance made this change glaringly apparent.

The Priest was old, stooped over, and cranky. He was the same one Joe had known many years ago. At that time, he greeted all his parishioners with a smile and would hold their hands as if they were his children, welcoming them into his own home. They were welcome anytime of day or night, and it was safe for them to be here. They were God's children. However, it soon became a matter of protection. Not just from the harshness of winter or summer, or the extremes they were forced to endure. It became a matter of protection against the very government that they worked under, paid taxes to, and raised a family. This diocese was their only hope to survive.

Time was not good to him and his love with God. Somewhere in the past, an unraveling occurred that made his connection less secure, his faith more fractured. Now he has a man standing before him who claims to have conversations with God. We all do in our prayers, but he claims that God wants him to call on a telephone, of all things. He can't just kneel, close his eyes, and let God know he is there. He is not unlike everyone else in this Church; they all want God to establish a knowing relationship, a one-on-one, a brother that is always in the next room that is always ready to protect you from that bully. The Priest advises Joe in his most non-sanctimonious way that everyone has their way to connect with God. Using the telephone is your tool to do this. He is always listening on the other end. "Don't expect a call back to answer your needs," He said.

"Expect some other way to get the message to you."

Joe walked out of the Church feeling depressed. Not only did he not get any support from someone who he thought might take some superfluous interest in his predicament. But he knew something was different now that people who had little except hope were living in a place of worship with tiny children and food brought over from the soup kitchen down the block. He knew that men wrapped in military gear from head to toe in ninety-degree heat were wandering the streets, hoping to find one outside the parochial door, smoking a cigarette or just needing some fresh air.

Joe moves on, soon to find more reasons why God may wish to speak to him.

And then he starts thinking, "What is the reason I am picked to have this conversation? I am just a normal person who struggles every day to stay alive."

That night, he is having the same dream and wakes himself up yelling, "Please tell me, if you are there, why won't you answer?" His small apartment and thin walls give his neighbor a reason to show his disdain for the living conditions, and he slams his fist against the wall, knocking a picture off the wall. The only wall in his tiny apartment that has a framed picture. It is his mother smiling. Joe remembers the day and time it was taken, a special day, his graduation from high school. She was so happy that day! It promptly falls from the violent vibrations, and the glass cover shatters.

The next day, he called his girlfriend, Julie, and they met at the park. The park is near where she works, a research center, and she is one of the scientists who is working to find a cure for cancer. Their relationship has been on and off for many years. Joe always thought that she enjoyed being around him because of his carefree and humorous way of seeing the world. But lately, he has been having these dreams, and now, things have changed. The fun guy is gone. But now he is going to test her commitment to him, and after today, he is going to discover that everything is going to change.

Everyone who believes in God wonders, "Why won't God talk to me? Joe knows this, so he often wonders, Am I doing what he has requested? Or is this just an invented game I am playing with myself? Joe sits and gazes at Julie's face, who is watching a couple of sailboats maneuver down the shoreline. He is in love with her; she is beautiful, and he would be devastated if everything fell apart, but he knows he must see this through.

Julie turns to Joe and at first, tells him how sorry she is for what he is going through, but then lets him know that she doesn't believe in God; therefore, she cannot think that there is some God or a superior being that guides us. She's a scientist who is working to rid the world of a disease probably caused by humans and their lifestyle, not by God. Her bad news was next. She then told Joe that the federal government cut all funding for research. She was out of a Job. Joe moved over and held her while she cried on his shoulder. While trying to console her, he started to wonder if God was doing this to punish him.

Julie had to go back to work to finish up and start to pack. She told Joe that a job opening was available out on the East Coast, and she would be moving soon. They kissed goodbye, their relationship left in limbo.

Joe thought about his laborious walk back and decided he would make a stop at a bar he passed by every day. The TVs were loud and annoying, but he drank several beers before he started to pay attention to what they were broadcasting. Something he never thought he would see were small streams that were becoming raging rivers. Flash floods took everything in their path on a long, destructive journey. The TVs were showing us what was happening in parts of Texas, something they had never seen there before. More water fell in a short time than falls in a year. Those who lost their homes and loved ones knew what was going on. The climate was changing. And then the President comes on to say something to help in their grief. "Climate change is a hoax," he tells them.

The clinic Joe walked past was closed. It was here that he saw his doctor. It was very close to his apartment, and he liked his Doctor. The sign was hastily written on a torn sheet from a notebook taped to the door. It read, "Closed due to a case of Measles unknowingly brought in. We will reopen when it is considered safe to do so." Joe had an appointment in a couple of days, and now he will have to deal with this.

That night, he had the same dream again. The next morning, he went through the process again. He dialed 0. And expected to begin his hurtful wait. He was being ignored. Maybe other people were getting through. Perhaps he felt I wasn't worth his time. But then he heard a clicking and buzzing, and then someone coughed. And then,

"Hello, is this Joe?"

'Yes, and who is this?" Joe replied.

"Well, you called me, so you should know."

"Is this-- God?" Joe somehow sputtered out.

"Yes,"

"What do you want from me?" Joe asked

"I want you to explain what the hell is going on in your world. Not the world as a whole, but yours, the place you live in, the place once considered the showcase for the world. People who are in need, hungry, tortured, jailed for no reason, murdered, once felt that there truly is a God, because there was America. Life really could be good."

"But now hope is gone, it has made my work harder because people no longer believe in me. I have to prove myself every day to millions of people. You are one of those I am reaching out to. Please talk to people who doubt me. Please let them know I am here."

The line went dead.

The dreams stopped, and Joe sought answers as the world around him continued to lose its way, and nothing he tried could change it.