I’m having a disagreement with God, and it’s exhausting. 

One of my closest friends passed away a few days ago and I am angry that she was snatched from me, and everyone who loves her, in a way that feels wasteful and cruel.   I have raised my arms to the heavens, admonishing God, letting him know how wrong he got this one.  “What were you thinking?” 

In the last year, my friend had beaten cancer, had a new grandson, and was going to retire in a few months.  It’s not fair, in the way that it isn’t fair when a selfish person wins the lottery, or a good person dies with so much life ahead of them.  My friend was smart, funny, and had a terrible sense of direction.  She not only cared about politics, the environment, and the homeless, she got involved, writing letters to state and federal leadership, knocking on doors.  She hiked, traveled, loved live theater, and laughed all the time.  She was a talented writer and read everything from spy novels to historical tomes.  She was a good friend and supported me during more than one difficult time in my life.  I confided in her.  I trusted her.  People loved her, I loved her. 

I try to pray about it, but I’m too pissed.  If anyone reading this is fearing for my soul, I’m pretty sure I can say I’m pissed at God without being struck down.  Free will and all.

Being on the outs with God is a problem, though.  Praying is part of what keeps me hopeful and sane.  When I am hurting, worried, or at any time unsure of what’s in store, I pray.  I pray for guidance, wisdom, strength, or whatever I need to get to the other side of whatever the trouble is.  When I’m furious with God, how does that work?  How do I pray to someone I am not speaking to?

There is a scene in the film, “The Way We Were,” when Katie calls Hubble after they’ve broken up and she can’t sleep.  She dials his number, crying.  When he picks up the phone she says, “It’s me.  I can’t sleep.  I know this is kind of peculiar, but I need someone to talk to, like a best friend.  But you’re my best friend, isn’t that dumb?”  It’s a little like that.

I want to call God on the phone and question his wisdom, “Why, why, why?”  At the same time, I want to beseech him, “Help me, please.  Help me get past this crushing pain in my heart.”  In the meantime, I will let myself be angry and confused for a while.  It is less painful than grief.  I will think of my friend, up there with God, looking down on me and telling him, “It’s okay.  She’ll be mad for a while, but she’ll be back.”