Text Message from God

I got a text from God. How do I know it was from God and not some wrong number? Well, because it listed the caller’s name as “God” and when I looked up the contact info in my phone, there it was in my phone, a new contact listing for “God”. When I selected “God”,  I found the phone number listed as being 777-333-1111 and an address of 624 Ridge Rd, Tiburon, CA 94920. Below is a transcript of the conversation:

God: We need to talk. 

Me: Who is this?

God: It’s God. Doesn’t your contact list me as God? I was having issues saving it, did it save? 

Me: I’m sure you meant this for a friend, but you’ve got the wrong number. Try again, I’m sure they’ll have a good laugh. 

God: Is this Sandy? 

Me: How do you know my name? 

God: Then it is Sandy? Good. Listen, Sandy, we need to talk. I put my info down in your contacts… if it saved correctly. Please check and let me know. 

(This is when I look in my contacts and see that it’s been added) 

Me: Ok, so this is creeping me out. I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to block your number. 

(I delete and block Gods phone number info) 

God: Me again. 

Me: I blocked you!

God: You can’t reeeeally block God. 

Sometimes when I go for a walk, my brain starts wandering and creating fake scenarios. Like the time I started thinking about having a conversation with God. What if, I thought, I got a Text from God that simply says, “We need to talk”. Isn’t that the most dreaded text message you could ever get? Well, what if it came from ….. GOD?! (Or: Universe, Higher-up, Goddess, Highest Power…. And so on and so on.) What if after I get the text, a magical Uber arrives and that takes me to God’s house? I pondered on that a while and I decide that God lives in Sausalito, at the end of a dirt road that leads to the edge of a cliff. I think it would be funny to put God in a Tiny home, so that’s where God lives: A Tiny home, on the edge of a cliff that looks out upon the Golden Gate Bridge and a San Francisco skyline. I also decide when the door opens, I’d see an older version of myself. God would explain that it’s easier to take on the image of the person, since everyone would get hung up on ethnicity, height, hair color, and gender. I decided that I wouldn’t like looking at an older version of me. However, I couldn’t argue with the logic, so I went with it.

When I got home from my walk, I wanted to try and write out this conversation with God. However, when I sat down to do it, I realized that I don’t want to talk to God. I don’t want to talk about all the things I’m angry about. When I let my imagination try and have a conversation with God in my writing…. I can’t go there, I’m too angry, all I can think of saying is, “WTF God, WTF?!!”

But what if I could go there? What would that look like? Okay, fine. I think we’d sit outside. The Tiny Home would have a porch and, on that porch, would be two hammocks. God and I would each sit in a hammock swing, all snuggled in with fuzzy white blankets. I’d have a half-caff Caramel Macchiato and God would be drinking a Roobios Herbal Vanilla tea. We’d be looking at the fog rolling into the bay. God would look over at me and say, “Listen, I know you’re mad. You want to tell me off, but you’re afraid you’ll be smited, so you don’t…” 

“How’d you know about the smiting fear?”, I’d ask. 

“It’s a pretty common fear”, God would reply. 

Then I’d start talking, slowly at first, but I’d build up steam and my words would tumble out and my voice would get louder.