Dear God (Edited. Version)

Dear God,

Tonight was, eh, just another day in paradise. I feel like many of us are on musical chairs. Except for musical chairs it sounds more like musical voices. For instance, I can’t hear myself think. It sounds like someone else’s voice is coming out of my mind. It’s like that Betty White snickers commercial. Here I am and then one of the voices sounds like a man? I cussed up a storm due to this. Who wants a big burly man crawling up in a decent looking woman? ‘Arms distance’, I think.

I’d go as far as saying that if we were tied to strings like a puppet, I’d almost bet we’d be at battle being pulled this way and that way. The only thing is that you get tangled up in strings while playing musical chairs. Or as I like to call it, musical voices. It’s child’s play or Tommy Hilfigers. It is like being white faced with a black and white striped shirt on. Just being a mime, only spinning in circles.

The Queen herself must have a few things right like that ballroom dance. It’s uniformed dancing all dancing the same. Though, I’m sure they get caught tangled in a few strings of their own. The scary part is when you hear a baby cry like you were born again in real time. But the worst part is feeling like a mime. Like okay!

Do these people want us to lay down and play dead like a dog? Or do they want us to leave our lights on running up the electricity bill? I mean which is it God?

I thought or at least I like to think that we are the captains of our own ship. We are each individuals or at least grow up to be. We think for ourselves, we eat on our own, we dress by ourselves. It’s uncomfortable thinking someone crawled up there and then hear their voice come out of your mind. Like what!? Are we playing press play, pause, stop then play the same record over again? I for one don’t want that.

What if the end of days (Reference Acts 1:7) simply mean that we’re up all night working on our talent and we lose track of time? Or for a lack of better words. That we are mused to be made an art? There is a song out there called ‘How Great Thou Art’ that is sung by quite a few artist out there now. Wouldn’t the world leaders prefer it? What about our children? (Reference Luke 18:16) Wouldn’t they want to live normally as children, without the fear of end of days or end of times?

Honestly, when my awakening came I had major trouble sleeping. I can’t fight that. We’re up against the hugest money making machine out there called war. And you’re not so bad yourself, God. As far as I’m concerned a new world is being made now. I see dinosaurs and pirañas in my dreams.

I can seriously do a comic strip on divas too. That’s what I call them. Divas. For instance I was married to a German. When that nazi soul comes out I call those divas. Man, that is one old soul! Those kind of divas rip out a brain, autopsy your body, and then chain and bound you for the “next life”. My ex husbands divas are miled compared to some Germans I’ve come across. It wasn’t me they offended. Though, I run. Uh uh. That’s all I can say. Oh, and when your brain gets ripped out of your mind. Yep, it’s called dead battery syndrome. I came up with that one on my own.

I really need to finish this skit. In fact a German comedian said it best himself, without any pun. I wrapped my silly little head around it rationalizing for nazis, in a way. He said, ‘wasn’t it Jews that killed Jesus?’ Good ole Saint Nick. I guess I never learned about the Jewish Christmas. And don’t get me started on those Mexicans! We’ve got chupacabra and voodoo and I recently was shocked to discover, that we now have, who do. Aren’t they all the same? Uh uh, no thank you.

Know the spirits (Reference John 1:4) I have a bad diva too, I just keep her nip tucked away. That’s a battle in itself. I have a theory that if you party like a rock star and you hang your soul incarnate divas, that you can or will become dispirited. Couldn’t that possibly be why people kill themselves in this crazy spiritual battle? That’s right, let’s let it pass. We’re here fighting our inner divas, too.

Why is it when we come across someone it feels like we’ve known them forever? Or when we meet a love interest, why do they somehow feel familiar to us? My favorite is finding girl friends that feel familiar and then you are hip and hip for years on end. I miss that. I want both of those again. In fact I can almost bet my ex husband is probably with someone familiar now. Good for him. When will it be my turn God? I never really got that during our marriage like he had.

I like everybody for the most part. Sitting there thinking a thought and then some foreign woman comes out of your mind. Like what was that? God you know I don’t like fighting any other battle but those divas of my own. Isn’t that what we are battling? Yes and no, but at this point in my life that’s what I’d like to work on. My own multiple personality divas, or my “imaginary friends.”

Like people, please let me continue on with my life so I can make and save some money. I have to move on with my life because I can’t solve those problems. I’m going to do what Liam Neeson told me to do. If there aren’t any opportunities coming my way, he said to build a door.

Can you imagine battling an addicts divas? No, me neither. God you know I’d never want to be a twin of theirs. Stuck in dysfunction. Like oh, let’s do that again! The first time was a blast!

All I can do from here is help my own children grow, and teach them to know the spirits. I just teach them the greatest Bible verse, for me anyway. It is to guard your thoughts and heart with all your power and might (Reference proverbs 23:7 and proverbs 4:23–27).

I once dreamed I cleaned my sisters temple out, after I shot her dead. She had two big huge Gorilla hands up in her body. Almost twice the size of her! They must have offended her. God help her none the less. I just can’t rock and roll like that. And then my other thought was, I hope it wasn’t me. It wasn’t. I may pluck out an eye if it offends me, in my minds eye.

And that’s when I packed my Holy Bibles up. I taped them shut, and marked the box ‘Jumanji’. The Bible does not play around. Put that Bible away. Wrap it with a ribbon seal, and see what you did with your works. Your oil lamp is lit and it’s time to walk through that door. Must get over this hurdle, in standard form, “I think”.

Now that I’m awake God please find me a way to make it out here. I’m up. Please keep it quiet for me. I’m not a celebrity and I can’t rub two penny’s together at the moment. I can’t play war games for other peoples money. I certainly wouldn’t want to play them to make my own money.

My concern has always been my children. Please let up on me. Please let up on us. Our kingdom has come and we have been working on our talents, and we’re poor. I write, my son writes and raps, and my daughter paints and sings. My children are what I fight for and it’s painful.

Although, it’s you God, that knows the hour and the day you send your son again (Reference Mathew 24:36).

I can’t live in fear of that day of return and I don’t expect my children to, either. Thank you for representing us and for everything else, too.

P.S. When the heck is this Covids business going away? And can’t we just use bubbles over weapons? It’s way funnier that way. You said come to me like children

Love your daughter,

Cheryl

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