I only knew that you were thirsty

Easter Sunday, 2011.

I need Half and Half.

Sitting in my car in the parking lot of a normally 24 hour grocery store at 6:15am, I began wondering how in the hell I forgot that today was Easter. Everything is closed. I told myself to go to the grocery store before work, but I didn't want to listen. I sat there, as the last of the early morning fog evaporated into nothing, and the sun on the horizon like God's flashlight stabbing me in the face. I was bleary eyed, perturbed, and wondering about my faith and where I put my chocolate Jesus.

What is faith, exactly? Call up Webster and he'll tell you it's “confidence or trust in a person or thing”, followed up quickly by definition number two that says “belief that is not based on proof”. All around the world there are people following their own little brand of religion, and a lot of 'em think that theirs is the right one and everyone else is going to hell. Some find the church late in life, others say they were following a calling right from day one. Maybe it's habitual, going way back to when their parents were simultaneously telling them about Jesus and the Easter Bunny. Try explaining that one when the kid hits 10 or 11. “The Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, we lied about those, but Jesus...Jesus, that's all true.” No wonder we're confused.

The holy ones up in front at church, with their vestments and collection plates, they say we're in the end times. The end is nigh. Repent. And because this person is at the head of a congregation, they are believed. Shit, there's a guy on my bus every Wednesday who says the same thing, but everyone just thinks he's crazy. The only difference is the location of the sermon and maybe the fact that my fellow commuter looks like he's a close cousin to Boo Radley.

But what if...what if he isn't crazy? What if he isn't on drugs or drunk? What if...and I'm just sayin' what if...what if he knows something we don't? What if he's actually illuminated? But let's face it, this guy doesn't fit the pastor profile. Last Wednesday he was one testimony away from getting kicked off the bus into a decent spring shower.

Sure enough, we hit the transit station and the driver stomped on the brakes and put it in park before the bus had quit movin'. He had had enough. A couple people swore from the back, the driver swore from the front. He chased ol' Boo's cousin out into the rain then closed the door with a hiss. I could hear Boo's cousin yelling “alright” over and over as I trotted into the building. I looked over my shoulder, and as the door closed I saw him there at the foot of the curb. He was looking up into the downpour, shouting hoarsely.

“Alright...alright...I don't want to do this anymore.”

At least that's what it sounded like. The door closed and the din of rain was sealed out with a click, and I just stood there a second and watched. He was just a silent drowning fish now, mouthing and gesticulating with the lunch crowd zipping by in all directions as if he wasn't even there. They disregard him as just another lost soul.

Now, perception is reality. What each person sees, hears or feels at any given moment is their reality. Boo's cousin appears crazy as a loon, but I have no idea what has happened in this man's life that has led him to this point. I only know that he believes what he is saying just as much as any preacher in a pulpit. I want to believe in something that strongly, but I'm sick with experience.

It sounds crazy but I kinda understand Boo's cousin. Sometimes I kinda know when a sound is just the house settling and when it's something else. I've heard voices on the wind and watched movement in my periphery. Once I left my body while sitting at the foot of a Redwood tree at Muir Woods National Monument. I've been visited by mom, and my old cat Whiskey.

It's possible that we all have been contacted by something unexplainable, but choose not to acknowledge it. Maybe we just call it a miracle. Maybe it's all garbled, like with Boo's cousin. Maybe we keep it a secret for fear of being labeled 'crazy', when there is no such thing as 'sane'.