I guess it started during Christmas break the year before. I was sitting in the academic advisor’s office for the first time in my life, and Mrs. Arthur was blinking at me.
She does that a lot. I heard once that women blink twice as much as men, but Mrs. Arthur blinks three times as much. It’s really fascinating, because she has these really long lashes and really big eyes.
So anyway, she widened those big eyes at me to emphasize the seriousness of the situation. She’s one of the few people that totally supports my decision to work a year before college, but she still wanted to remind me that waiting a year was no excuse to slack off.
“Alright Fred,” she blinked. “Please remember that it’s never too early to choose what college you want to go to. Choosing now gives you that much more time to get to know the college better, and if there’s anything you decide you don’t like, you still have time to change.”
Mrs. Arthur knew my prospects were limited. She had to pay for college all by herself when she was my age. Therefore she was one to remind me that it’s nearly impossible to get through college without incurring some debt. As much as I disliked the idea, I had to agree with her. I didn’t have much choice, either. That’s how it goes for middle-class students.
I just wasn’t ready to think about that yet. In fact, I would rather have been at the mall, instead of staring at potted plants.
“Frederica Samuels, are you listening to me?”
My thoughts had been sliced clean through. I rolled my eyes up from the potted plant and met her gaze.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Every time she blinked I felt like I had to.
Weird.
“Well?” She blinked.
I nodded.
“I get what you’re saying, Mrs. A. But why does going to college have to be so complicated?”
Mrs. Arthur leaned back in her swivel chair and regarded me through her long lashes.
“Because it’s really hard to get anywhere in life without a degree of some sort. You and I know that first hand; neither your nor my parents made it all the way through college. They made it somewhere in the end, but it took them longer. It was also hard for you sometimes, am I right?”
I nodded.
“Aside from that,” she continued, “Future employers want to see that you’re the sort of person who doesn’t let obstacles do more that slow you down a little bit. From what I can tell, you don’t let much stop you. So why are you so worried about this?”
I scratched my head thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s because so much rests on it. Future jobs, future finances, and maybe even by future husband!”
Heavens, what a mind-boggling notion!
Mrs. Arthur smiled. “Maybe, Fred, you should worry less. Remember how you told me you wished God would just tell you what he wanted you to do? God isn’t like that, hon. He wants faith from you. He’ll tell you in the end, but not until you learn to trust him. I know you want what he has for you. If you just keep that mindset, he won’t let you go the wrong way.”
Those words echoed in my head later as I walked out to my car- a beat-up old Ford two-door with paint peeling in places. It wasn’t pretty, but it got good gas mileage. I found a message on my cell phone when I dug it out of my purse.
“Hey Fred, this is Chantal. Just wanted to ask you if you wanted to see that one new movie tonight. Call me back!”
I pushed the button to delete it, mumbling to myself. “Sorry Chantal,” I said to the empty car. “Gotta work tonight.” That started a wave of grumbling to myself that escalated as I struggled with the stiff parking brake. Pulling out of the school parking lot, a thought suddenly occurred to me. It was one of those sudden pricks on my conscience that I get sometimes when I’m grumbling. You know, one of those reminders that God’s watching. When life makes me mad, sometimes I get stuck on myself and forget that he’s watching. Then his spirit reminds me again, and I get this wave of guilt.
“OK Lord,” I said aloud. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening again. I know I should be, especially now that I’m so confused. But when I get confused, I go nuts!”
I found myself driving away from home, instead of toward it. There’s no privacy at my house, and heaven knows I can’t get anything figured out when there’s noise.
I found myself swallowing past a lump in my throat. There’s another thing: I have this problem with watery eyes, you know? They water when I sneeze, or yawn, or… get really frustrated. And then I get frustrated at myself for crying, and it goes around in a vicious cycle.
I drove into the park and found a parking space. It was deserted on account of the frigid weather.
“God,” I prayed. “I feel like a failure. I really do. And now I feel like a drama queen for getting so worked up about this. I always said I’d never be dramatic like the chicks on TV. But anyway, I feel so trapped, God. I’m driving around in this piece of junk with only a few thousand dollars in the bank and this cloudy sky isn’t helping!
“What happened to those sunny, carefree days when I was fourteen and getting straight A’s and my future looked so bright? I’m still getting A’s, God. But now they’re just a letter on a page. They don’t seem to be getting me anywhere. I don’t seem to be getting anywhere! My rich friends get to go to whatever college they want; they know what they want to do. Why do I feel like you’re dangling this hazy daydream in front of me, just out of reach?”
“Maybe I am.”
What was that? Was that that little voice I have so much trouble hearing?
“Speak louder, God.”
Silence.
“Are you trying to torture me, God?”
For a minute I was afraid a bolt of lightning would come crashing through the sky and zap my car for my impudence.
Then I remembered Jonah. God let him complain for all he was worth without saying anything. God even gave him a little vine for shade while he complained.
“OK God. Where are the little worms that are gonna eat my vine?” I asked.
Again that infuriating silence.
“Lord, why can’t you just tell me what you want me to do? You told Jonah!”
“Did he do what I asked?”
Aha! There it was. But he didn’t answer my question.
“Well, no. But I would, if you told me.” I said.
Silence.
“OK, maybe I wouldn’t. I don’t know. I won’t know until you try.”
“I’m not the one to be learning things. You are. What if I’m trying to teach you patience?”
“I have been patient. And now I’m sick of it.”
Silence.
I didn’t say anything either, for awhile. I just glanced out the windshield and watched some geese flying south.
“Where are the geese going?” God asked.
“South.”
“Where, exactly?”
“I don’t know.”
“They don’t either. So why are they going?”
“Because they have to.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s what they do to stay warm.”
“In other words, they do it for their own good. How do they know it’s for their own good?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence.
“OK, maybe it’s because it’s instinctive.” I think I’d caught on. “It’s instinctive because you made them that way.”
Silence. But it was a happy silence.
“They’re doing what you told them to do. They don’t ask questions, they just go. They don’t wait until you tell them to, and they don’t know where they’re going until they get there.” I paused to contemplate. “Sounds scary.” I added.
“So was dying for you.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes. I think. No, not always.”
“The geese do.”
“Brave geese.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. They learned it from me. You were made in my image. How much more will I help you! Child, can you trust me?”
“Not by myself.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Wait. You’re saying you’ll help me to trust you to help me find my purpose?”
“Yes.”
I smiled and started the car.
“You’re really cool, you know?”
“Child, I’m your God. Trust me.”
I drove home reflecting on the argument. Then I realized it wasn’t really an argument after all.
postscript
This is a short piece of fiction I wrote and is not autobiographical. Parts of it are similar to my life, but it's basically just a piece that came to me that I thought I'd share. It looks long, but it's actually a quick read. Crit would be fine.