Is there a God in the 21st century, and if so, how do you reach ’em?

A funny thing happened to me while I was vacationing in CA and driving down a road that lasted forever. You know the type. Orchards on one side of you, vineyards on the other side of you, and you driving on that lonely road while buzzards, vultures, and dirt devils fly over and around you.

That sums up driving in CA. The cities become the oasis and everything else in between is one long stretch of pavement leading toward the mountains and the sky.

CA isn’t the place for cowards. Nope, it’s a place of reflection and wondering whether or not you can trust yourself, let alone the person driving the car.

In its vastness, there’s an eternalness that asks you how well do you trust yourself and your driving partner, and what do you do when you start self-doubting yourself or your partner?

It came to that last week when my spouse and I went first to Turlock and then on to Fresno for a 10 day break from the ordinary.

That’s when I doubted the existence of God and everything he/she stands for. After all, on those endless roads in CA, everything comes into question and when you start questioning yourself, that’s when you start doubting yourself and asking, “where’s Strider when you need him?”

Of course, Strider never came nor did a park ranger. In fact, there was no one on that lonely road except myself and my spouse who kept questioning me and giving me an hour for Interstate 101 N, 5 West, and getting to San Francisco International Airport via Bruno Avenue for our flight out of CA.

We actually made it in 4 hours instead of 3 hours and 11 minutes, but compared to our trip to Turlock (7 hours of straight driving), we did okay.

Did God hear our cries?

Did God answer our pleas?

Nope, no, no one heard us except us. I learned to count to 10 again so that no nasty curse words left my mouth. I told my spouse that I didn’t want to die when he did a K turn on a twisty winding road in Yosemite National Park and that if all the orchards and vineyards burned, that was all right with me.

But, God didn’t figure in all of this.

I don’t know why he or she didn’t answer.

I certainly prayed long and hard for help, but it never came.

I also remembered that quote “God helps those who help themselves.”

So, I  kept counting to 10, asking in God’s name where we were and did anybody really cared, and came to realize that Aragon, son of Arathon was just a character in “Lord of the Rings” by Tolkien, and that no matter how many times I invoked his name that he would never come.

And God?

Well, I’m still on the fence about that.

I’m still waiting to here.

Until next time… .

 

About Lillian Cauldwell

Own and operate an Internet Talk Radio Network for 10 years, 2005 to Present Published Author of Non-Fiction Book, 1996, "Teenagers! A Bewildered Parent's Guide. Published Author of several fiction books, 2006 "Sacred Honor" and 20010 "The Anna Mae Mysteries: The Golden Treasure." Playwright of Theater of the Absurd and Black Comedies. Screenwriter, Black Comedies

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