Marolt: The gift that keeps on giving |

Marolt: The gift that keeps on giving

Roger Marolt

I’ve had a weight around my neck for what seems like forever. Actually it’s probably been more like a few weeks, but the enormity of it has made me weak so I can barely carry the burden any longer.

OK, OK, it’s not even that big or worn me down very much. The truth is more like I just don’t have the patience to deal with it. But, when you’ve got a problem that you can’t immediately solve all by yourself, it feels like a monstrous difficulty that predates the reaches of memory.

So, what does a good Catholic boy do when things aren’t going his way? He prays. And, that’s what I did. I prayed and prayed and prayed, or at least as much as I could in my free time and at night when this thing was really bugging me. And, do you know what happened? Nothing. And, yes, I have high expectations, but this is God we’re talking about, right?

I do have faith, so I didn’t give up easily. I lowered the terms of my request a little and gave The Big Guy a little wiggle room to manage things hoping that this sign of my humility might help my cause and get things moving along.

Do you know what happened after my revised request? I’m sorry to say, nothing. Absolutely nothing happened, that I noticed. I even threw in a few solutions of my own and offered to do most of the work and actually did take some action, but I didn’t get any assistance and the thing just wouldn’t go away.

I’m a little scared to say it, but telling a lie isn’t really a good idea either, so honestly, I was getting a little ticked off with The Man Upstairs. … OK, I was good and mad!

A few terrible thoughts came to me during this time of feeling betrayed. I started hearing a familiar line from the Atheists’ Creed: “God is a crutch for the weak-minded.” I never really believed this, but in my current state of dissatisfaction with Heaven’s productivity, I suddenly saw it as a way to strike back. I mean, who would like to be called “a crutch”?

I blurted it out: “You’re a crutch!” I almost curled into a ball on the floor and covered my head waiting for the lightening to strike. And then … nothing. Nothing happened.

I don’t know why I should have been surprised at this. It’s a well-known fact that God is one tough customer. I should have guessed that He’s probably seen this stunt about a zillion times in the history of mankind and saw it coming. I’ve got to say, my own mistake in not foreseeing this non-reaction sort of made me madder. You know what I’m talking about: Nobody likes it when, in the heat of battle, your opponent takes the high road.

When it comes to matching wits, I’m not one to give up too easily, though. I had to come up with a counter attack that he’d never seen; something he wouldn’t know what to do with.

“So, You love me more than anything, huh? You want to help me with all my problems, right? You have infinite power and wisdom, correct? You can do anything? You work in mysterious ways?” I said.

He didn’t say “no” when I posed all of this to Him. Emboldened, I moved forward with my plot.

“OK,” I snickered, knowing that I had Him painted into a corner. What I did next was pure genius, if I do say so myself. I took each aspect of my problem and mentally put them into a great big box in my mind, one at a time. I stuffed that thing full. I even put in a few other smaller issues that I wasn’t particularly worried about, just to rub it in. I wrapped it up in mental duct tape and tied a ribbon of cerebral bailing wire on it.

“Here!” I said. “It’s a gift from me. It’s all yours. And, I don’t want it back!” And, I pretty much teleported that big old sorry load of garbage right back to Him!

I didn’t hear a thing back. I didn’t really expect to. I laughed and patted myself on the back. I had stumped God and left him speechless!

It’s been several weeks now and I still haven’t heard back. I’d have loved to see the expression on His face when he opened that package. Ha ha! I wonder what he’s doing with it now. I think I’ll just forget about it. In fact, I already have. That ought to show Him!

Roger Marolt is beginning to think God doesn’t mind being called a “Crutch”.


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