My Letter to God

Dear God,

Today I celebrate my birthday at my ugliest. My face, head, neck, chest, back, and arms have blisters all over them. That You let this happen on the week of my birthday makes me think that trapped inside each tiny bubble in my body is a message.

So: Is this my comeuppance, my greatest vices being pride, vanity and arrogance?

But You’re not petty, I know; and so I look at my contracting chicken pox as something that happened not because I was bad, but because a naughty varicella virus found me and made me a Xerox machine.

Still, it got me thinking.

A well-meaning friend, after knowing I’m on self-imposed isolation, told me to do retrospection. Thing is, I’m no fan of Socrates who said that an unexamined life is not worth living. I’m not into looking back at events ---good or bad--- because it would only invite regrets, and I have enough regrets as it is. It’s enough for me that I’ve asked forgiveness for my sins and whispered my prayers of thanksgiving and that’s about it. But of course You know this already, right?

Then the same friend suggested I do introspection instead. OMG! Oopps, sorry, I’m not supposed to say "Oh-My-God" before my God. But this friend doesn’t know when to quit and now wants me to talk to myself to know why I am what I am. For crying out loud, is she nuts? She should have been the one You afflicted with chicken pox and not me! Joke.

But let’s indulge her even just this once. Four years from today I’ll be half a century old, and You know what, God? If there’s one thing I need to be clarified on, it’s this: Why is it that people form adverse opinions about me on the sole basis of what they hear from others? Not that I care, but sometimes it bothers me. Really! And oftentimes I blame You—hahaha—because what causes all this bad rep is Your giving me the gift of being able to speak my mind with such brutal honesty. My gift is my curse, yes, and thanks to You.

Will I change my ways now that I’m celebrating my birthday with horrid marks on my skin? Will I stop caring about excellence and let mediocrity become the norm so people will warm up to me and request me to become their FB buddy? Will I hang my brutal honesty out to dry in order to launch a campaign for Mr. Nice-and-Easy? No, God, sorry. Even if You make this ordeal last forever, I still don’t want to be a bore.

By the way, just a bit of digression. If there’s one person most affected by what You’ve put me through, it’s Bugsy. You see, he and his friends are expecting another treat to the fiesta carnival in Tandag just like what they had two years ago. As I write this he’s sulking, knowing that it’s not possible anymore because surely his Dad won’t go out with a hood over his face or put him and his friends at risk of being infected. There’s always next week, You say? Too late, the carnival leaves town day after the fiesta. You know more about kids than I do and so don’t blame me if Your inbox brims with text messages that contain menacing emote-icons from Bugsy and the poor kids in my neighborhood accusing You for being such a kill-joy!

God, I know that You know that I just want to have fun with You today through this letter. And Mike Posner in the background doing a cover of Adel’s “Rolling in the Deep” as I write this can attest to the lightness of the situation. But the same lightness of situation needs to be set aside for a while because I want to say a few heartfelt lines. You see, I’ve lived long enough to know this much to be true: that You are a God of deliverance; that You are a God who listens and provides; and that You are a God who loves beyond measure no matter what. For these and more, I could only bend my knees in prayer. Thank you very, very much!

Please stop feeling guilty for what You’ve done to me because I truly understand. I’m ugly today, yes, but who cares? I’m alive and it’s my birthday!

Love you much, God.


RMO


PS

If you promise to leave only one pockmark on my face, I won’t delete my FB friends who won’t post a comment on my wall.