Timing really is everything, isn’t it? Or if it isn’t everything, it’s so much of most things. I’m reading Conversations with God right now. I never would’ve given this book a second glance, but it was recommended by someone whose brain seemingly operates on the same far-reaching plane as mine - even on religion despite his devout Catholicism and my indeterminate beliefs. In any case, I trust him, so I bought the book. And I love it. I’m only a third of the way through it, but I love it. The man believes he’s having a conversation with God - and he might actually be - and, for the first time in my life, I’m reading something about a God that I can get on board with. That’s not the point of this, though, so let’s pop forward to this morning. Or, sort of last night….

Just as I was going to bed, an old friend sent a text asking if I was awake. As rude as this is, I chose to ignore it for the next few hours because I was afraid of where the conversation would go. I knew he wasn’t in immediate trouble because he would have said so, but I also knew that the chat wouldn’t be just a chat checking in. He doesn’t do that. I get it. Rarely do I text just to check in. In any case, I left it alone until morning. As I was making coffee, my mind flashed back to last summer when he told me he was in Baptist hospital being treated for complications due to alcoholism. I don’t know how he ended up there. He didn’t know how he ended up there. All we knew is that he hadn’t been able to walk for several days to several weeks and the doctors gave him less than a 50% chance to live. He could barely form words and when he could, only two or three would make it out before he’d break down. His body trembled, his eyes were squinty and glassy, and he never moved his head. I sat next to him and talked about nothing and everything, and I only made it a few feet down the hall before crumbling from the intensity of the visit. So, when I replied “Hi there. Yes, I am.” at 5:30 this morning, my stomach swished around with something less than anxiety, but more than curiosity. Two hours later, I’m unfolding my laptop at the coffee shop when his reply comes through, “Good morning! Do you have a busy schedule today?” I replied pretty quickly that I did while still leaving room for him to tell me what he needed. I watched with concern as the three little dots indicating a response was coming appeared on my phone. To say that I was floored by his response would be a gross understatement. To sum it up, he, too, believes that he has been talking with God. But rather than the conversation occurring through pen and paper, this dialogue has been happening in a chest - an old wooden box, not the human body chest. What in the actual sideways fuck, you say? Yeah, me too. I cannot wrap my head around it, no matter how many questions he answers, but I suppose it would be short-sighted of me to say he’s wrong, even if I don’t believe it. I’m just telling myself that it’s so hard to grasp this as a reality, and that there are countless snippets of life that I don’t understand. With that, I’m doing my best not to discount him. I’m failing, though. In any case, I think it’s important for people to feel heard, whether or not we agree with them. So, I listened. Or read, rather. And then re-read, oh, I don’t know… eighty times??? before writing all of this out. Even now, between half-sentences, I’m picking up my phone to see if there is anything I missed. I’d like to end this with an actual ending, but that doesn’t seem to be happening, so I’ll just pause for now and wait for whatever is going to happen with him to actually happen.