I Got Questions!v

First, we must observe a moment of silence for my sweet cat, Lily, and some of her kittens. They have gone to Heaven to live in my mansion. To wait for me with the rest of my “kids.” They did not leave me as, or when, I would’ve chosen. Nor do I understand God’s purpose in their too-early deaths. That will be one of the hundreds of questions I will ask when I arrive in Heaven.

[Hold up a dad-gum minute. The Kardashian cat dies and it’s on the Trending Stories headline? What The Heck? I deserve to be Googled too. Wait. Let me get my teeth whitened, my hair done, put on make-up, get gel nails, lose one hundred twenty pounds, buy a billion dollar wardrobe. Have a complete loser for my “baby daddy.” Okay. I’m ready. Hello? Anybody here? (crickets chirping)]

I do have a list of questions. You bet your sweet bippy (Google the phrase, youngsters) I do. A looong list. In alphabetical order. Prioritized by degree of importance. I’ve been told when I get to Heaven all the questions I have for God won’t matter. I’ll either know the answers or I won’t care. I beg to differ. If they’re important to me here they’ll be important to me there. That’s what I’m thinkin’.

So I won’t forget the prioritized, alphabetical questions, I’ve decided to have them tattooed to the insides of my eyelids. Can’t forget ’em if they’re attached, right? Then all I’ll have to do is close my eyes to read the list. Yeah. I know. It’s a spectacular idea. Wonder why nobody’s thought of it before. Probably because they don’t have this level of intelligence and wit. And foresight. (Sight. Eyelids. Get it? Ha! I crack me up!)

I’m going to wait until the very last minute to finalize the list. It makes sense to wait. I’m gonna have more questions than I do right now. When The Time comes I’ll have Kat Von D zip right up, engrave away then I’ll be off to Eternity. Excellent!

Won’t God be surprised? I’ll ask Him what I want to know. Things such as, if I could’ve been 5’7″ and weighed 117 pounds and built like a Hollywood starlet why did He choose to make me 5’2″ short and 5’2″ around? Think of all the extra witnessing I could’ve done with a near-perfected body like that. I would’ve helped the men lying in adoration at my feet to understand I was not the person to worship, God was the One to worship. As it was, there were few men in the earthly realm who could handle this much lusciousness. So rare were they I never found one. I already know what He’s going to say. He will tell me it doesn’t matter, that my Heavenly body is glorified. Yeah. Okay. Whatever.

What about illness? Not that we have it. I know why we get sick: because there is sin in the world. My Sunday School teachers have told me this, like, forever. (Sin = allergies. Think about it. Every time you—okay, I!—sin brain cells twist a little bit. Being misplaced causes sinuses to swell. The nose drains even though it can’t be blown or sniffed. Then comes sneezing and eyes watering. The insides of the ears itch. Need I say more?) 

My question is, why do we get sick when we do? Isn’t it always in the middle of the night, on a weekend night, on a holiday? When there’s nobody open. Except the local E.R. Which is packed from one end of the olive-painted walls to the other. Those fake denim chairs are enough to give you a spinal injury if you don’t already have one. Not to mention the person next to you is hackin’ and honkin’ like a drunk trumpet player, and not covering his mouth.

I’d also like to know what imbecile invented the “kidney basin” aka “puke pan.” The bottom is rounded. It’s shallower than your ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend. The instant liquid hits it…well, we all know what happens, don’t we? Now they have those nice, clear blue plastic bags with the round plastic rim at the top. Yep. Those are helpful. Everybody in the room can see what you had for dinner—and how well you chewed it. (What? Don’t tell me your mother didn’t nag you to chew your food 9420 times before you swallowed it so you wouldn’t choke. And to always wear clean underwear in case you got into a wreck and had to go to the hospital.)

What other questions…? Why grass is green, the sky is blue, trees are brown, water is clear. Depending on your location. Guess I already know the answer to those. The phenomenal British physicist Stephen Hawking figured them out. Unfortunately unless things have changed, he hasn’t figured out there’s God. The One Who created everything Mr. Hawking believes he understands. Sure would like to see the brilliant human attempt to calculate God’s existence when he stands before the Throne of Heaven. E = mc2. (Oops. Sorry. Wrong genius.)

How come the college football bowl system doesn’t make sense? SEC versus Big Twenty versus BVD versus ATM versus Mountain West Southeast versus ACC versus Big Moe down at the local high school field. The Founding Fathers of this Great Nation never intended the BCS to be this way. I bet Stephen Hawking can’t figure it out.

And why, out of all the long, skinny mobile homes in the entire trailer park, the opossum families and stray cats always ended up in my yard, inside my fence and trapped in Morgan’s kennel so she’d go ape-poop berserk at Zero Dark Thirty in the morning. What happened when I moved to Sherry’s? The second night Morgan went crazy. Outside I went. Three guesses what was perched atop the telephone line stretched across Sherry’s back yard. An opossum the size of a mountain lion. I looked at it and said, “Really? Seriously? Are you kidding me?” I looked at Morgan, who was vibrating with excitement, and said, “Are you some kind of opossum magnet? Get thee behind me, satan!” Funny thing about that. I haven’t seen an opossum since.

And then there’s…. Hm. Dang. I can’t think of any other questions right now. But I have them. Hundreds of them. Might have to start the tattooing early if I’m gonna be forgetting the questions already.

Guess I’m glad I have bunches of questions. If I didn’t that’d mean I know everything. And if I know everything I wouldn’t need God. I’d be 5’7″, weigh 117 pounds. With totally clear sinuses.

Until next time, may you be filled with God’s tender mercies. 

Jann (Sherry’s sister)