My Firework Lighter

I once read a book that said God is change. Growing up going to church sermons, with my father being a pastor, my mother the choir conductor. We were always told that God is love and he ought be feared. Two completely contradictory statements, but I learnt it was best to silence my inquisitiveness and sweep my confusion underneath the 2nd hand rug I bought at a vintage store on 120 Avenue. The owner of the store said it used to belong to a famous scientist. When I asked who the scientist was, he said he couldn't remember his name.

It was on this rug that used to belong to the famous scientist who's name can't be remembered that I read these words.

God is change.

What does that mean?

I fretted over the concept for hours, pacing my small studio apartment that was in need of a tidy. I couldn't be bothered, I needed to understand what the author meant.

I tried to think of all the moments in my life where things changed drastically. I could think of one recent occurrence. The day I took my dog for a walk drunk on cheap wine and I fell, dislocating my knee. I remember laying there for what felt like forever, in truth I was in shock. The sound had bothered me more than anything, that vile snap of tendons freeing themselves, muscles pushed in ways they shouldn't. That fall lasted seconds, the admittance of defeat probably a couple minutes more. The sky was clear that night. The pain prominent as I limped home. I couldn't walk for 8 weeks after that. Confined to my bed, crutches at the ready against the wall.

It still doesn't make sense. Does that mean God intended for me to fall? Or perhaps he intended for what happened after the fall. To be fair, I quit drinking and started focusing on healing my knee and eating healthy - which didn't last very long but it's the thought that counts, right?

I also developed an obsession with books, which ultimately led me to this book that has now slingshotted me into an existential crisis. You see, I never quit reconciled my confusion with the Almighty, the Alpha and Omega, Allah, God. Call him in whatever name is agreeable with you. And here comes this woman who decides to switch it up and call him, Change.

It's been 4 hours now, the warm orange hue of the afternoon rays have simmered into a deep blue.

Nightfall.

I walk over to my lamp and switch it on so it can cast minimal light over my dungeon of an apartment. I can hear the sound of sirens 9 floor below me on the street. The muffled sound of music coming from a few doors down pervades me. There's only so much loud music can grate at your insides until you find it comforting.

The book is still clutched in my hand. My forefinger lodged in between the pages so I don't loose my place. I ignore my phone ringing in the corner of the room by the bed which I strategically moved against the window.

I like the view.

I figured it was worth enduring the cold that still manages to seep through it, even when it's closed. I often bundle myself up in piles of blankets, layer in thick woolly pants and oversized hoodies. Let's not forget the thick fluffy socks I get for Christmas every year.

I do it all just for the chance to see the fireworks.

It's not what you think. These fireworks don't appear on days one would expect. No, they're out of nowhere and for no reason at all.

There is someone in the middle of the city who will light fireworks for their own enjoyment I suppose. Perhaps they're a product tester and their job is to test out fireworks for a company. Whatever the reason, I think of that person often. Of what goes through their mind to want to fire up something so loud, bright and exceptionally disruptive on a boring Tuesday night in the middle of winter. I wonder if they know they're sending shockwaves into the city.

I know I'm not the only person who is stopped in whatever mundane activity they found themselves perusing in. Their routine thwarted by one person's action. It probably only takes that person about 10 seconds to light a firework. Each display lasting about 10 minutes. A 10 second decision for a 10 minute distraction.

And what's it all for? Once they've run out of their collection, and the smoke has cleared. I always go back to doing what I was doing, but I find myself doing it differently. Or at least feeling different than I did before. Even if it's something I didn't want to do in the first place, like washing the dishes, marking my students papers, or scraping of the wax that's dripped onto my famous scientist's rug. Before the display of the fireworks, I was dreading having to wake up the next day and having to repeat the process of participating in a society that's bigoted, dried up and stale.

After the fireworks? Well, I'm kind of okay with participating in a society that's bigoted, dried up and stale.

It doesn't happen often, the fireworks in the distance. When it does, I like to believe it's some sort of sign. A message perhaps from the universe. That even in the coldest and darkest of nights. If one person decides to do something out of the ordinary, it can ignite an entire city skyline, it can burn up the hopelessness in a persons soul.

10 seconds, for one stranger to light up my heart. To change me.

I stopped pacing the room. That's it.

I've been looking at it all wrong. I'm trying to understand why God is change instead of trying to piece together what change actually is. At least for me.

Change is seconds. 1 second, half a second, a hundred seconds.

10 seconds.

Add all those seconds up, and time tends runs away without anyone realising until it's gone.

Who we are before and who we are afterwards depends on how we feel about the in-between parts.

Whether I was doing the dishes meekly, or watching fireworks in awe. I changed. Everything changed.

All because of a man, or woman who stepped out into their yard, at a time when most people would be making dinner, or getting in late from peak hour traffic.

That strange person would set up their firework in the grass, flick the gritty, metal wheel of a lighter, or slide the slim wooden stick of a match against a box and point it to the end of a flammable string. The string would light up in a spark, the crackling sound filling the silence. Fire.

Moving, burning, travelling to its likely target. A fuse, that sets off a charge, which then ignites the gunpowder. And away it goes, propelled into the sky, and into the view of the joyful and the hopeless, the loved and the forgotten, the aware and the confused.

Maybe God is like a firework. All it takes is 10 seconds for you to believe in something beyond the ordinary. Maybe you don't have to believe in God, maybe you already do. Even if you don't, it's deeper than that. It's not about God and whether we believe in him, or fear him or nothing at all about him. It's about change. Change is constant, inescapable, dependable. When it finally arrives, suddenly and out of nowhere, like a stranger lighting fireworks at a time the world least expects it. What could it be for? Perhaps...for the hopeless to become joyful, the forgotten to feel loved and the confused to be aware. All it takes is 10 seconds.

The sounds of explosive shots pulled my attention to my window. I can see the bright glimmer of oranges, pinks and reds. My firework lighter is at it again. I put my book down, rush to my bed and wrapped blanket around me like I was a child in need of a hug. The smoke from the first firework cleared. I sighed, took a deep breath and counted to 10.