Seemingly mundane moments turned into quirky omens,
with made-up messages to help a girl mend her broken heart and her hurting soul…
~
And on the second day, God said: “When sadness falls upon thee, eat gluten and eat a lot of it.” That day she ate many pancakes.
And on the third day, God told her: “Treat yo self.” But she didn’t know what He meant. So she cooked an egg and placed it Sunny-Face up; but it leaked with tears regardless.
On the fourth day God said: “Wear your (you know which jeans).” And she said, “Okay” and wore her (you know which jeans). A photograph in her boyfriend jeans was taken.
On the fifth day God said, “Sweet child, make something seasonal out of your sadness.” And she listened and made her sadness into something seasonal. But God said nothing more to her that day. He knew she didn’t want to hear anymore for one day. A Sweet Potato Pumpkin Soup was brewed until her heart’s contentment.
On the sixth day God said, “Take a moment to step inside and feel the warmth of good friends.” And she said Okay to his advice, and stepped inside and felt the warmth of her friends. She smiled with her mouth – and even showed some teeth – but He knew she still felt cold, and that there was no correlation to the weather. A photograph with good friends was taken.
And on the seventh day, God chained his child to her bed and gave her no choice but to vomit all of the poisons she had inside. While she lay there the whole day through, she thought: “Lord, what a cruel way to give a girl a day off.” She found some mercy – a vial full – and thanked the Man for His days of reflection, His twisted types of healing.
Between the bites and chewing of her morning toast, the eighth day came and went, and although all that was meant to be destroyed and created was – she still felt like she needed Him. But God said not one word to her that day. He was quiet. Private, in fact, and seemingly distant. She listened for a sign in between the conversations her mother had around her; she listened on the metro through its humming; she listened in the car for Him to say something or anything complete, but all He mumbled was: “Sweet child – Eat, Pray, and love.” She said Okay to Him (unsure if he even heard her), and promised she’d try tomorrow. For now this movie will suffice. The Eat. Pray. Love film starring Julia Roberts was played as she fell asleep.
On the ninth day God returned, and He said to His child: “If you look just beyond the mountains, and make a vow to eat the fish of the sea and the greens of the earth – your pain may feel more natural – and in time, it will leave you.” And she said, “Okay, but I hope you know I’m going to eat all of the Mountains too. Mashed potatoes ARE my favourite.” And he replied with more enthusiasm than yesterday, “You will not be judged for having eaten all of that gluten. Today you must Eat but tomorrow, tomorrow you Pray.” And she answered, with a mouthful of potatoes, ‘Okay.’ A photograph of a mountain of mashed potatoes, a sea of grilled fish, and a bush of broccoli was taken.
On the 10th day while she ran and the sun set over her, she Prayed. At first she spoke to Him as though He were a genie in a bottle needing to be rubbed the right way, but quickly that tone faded. She prayed to Him instead like she would as though she were rambling to a friend: “Like maybe, maybe my life’s puzzle pieces could seem less puzzling; maybe just things could align like the stars in the sky.” And all of a sudden, in a mere streak of yellow light (yolk), God came down from the sky, hushing the world around her and said: “Dear child, I am always listening. I am always watching you from the Centre of every sunset, from the yolk of every morning egg.” That day two photographs were taken: a sunset, and two ripe, yellow morning yolks.
And on the 11th day that passed, her world ended. She saw only darkness and her heart cried and squeezed out through her eyes. God had decided her fate. He hardly warned her of when He would take action, and that made her angry. But on the 12 th day, running from her problems, she was reminded of life’s beauties and rebirths. She found this lovely Lady and gave her a free ride all the way to Île Des Soeurs — she didn’t even pee once. A ladybug had landed on her hand, and a photograph was taken.
In between the 11th and 13th day, she visited a church – something unforeseen to her in many ways. When they asked the reason for her visit and she told them, along a rectangular table, under bleack white lights, they prayed for her. She couldn’t quite hear what was said, but mumbles and deep breaths filled the room, and voices found passion in words and in circumstance not relevant to them. They prayed for what she had asked like they said they would.
Later that same evening her actual Father came to her that night with a distraught looking piece of Gluten Filled Apple Pie, and he wrapped his arms around her only just to say, “Baby, you are going to be okay…” He hushed her for a moment more before continuing: “…Everything will be okay again because ‘The Spirit of God is upon me; because He hath anointed me to preach good news to the humble; he hath sent me to bind up the Broken-hearted, and proclaim liberty to captives, and freedom to prisoners.’ You’re going to be just fine,” he said once more; “You’ll be okay again.” And while she listened, she let her heart turn off inside her chest. Resting it on His. For a moment she leaned everything she had on him, just to feel whole again (Isaiah 61).
On the 13th day God said in a sweet whisper: “Wishing a Happy Birthday to the twins! And Sweet child, remember when you are feeling blue, bake something orange.” And she said, “Okay. But you have to help me do the dishes…” And God replied, “Yeh, okay there sweet child. I know your heart,” He said, “I know your thoughts (that’s enough). I have searched you to see if there be any wicked way in you — I’ll lead you in the Way, the lasting-ever, but I will not do the dishes.” [A rift of Psalm 139 L 23] That evening a Gluten-Free Pumpkin Pie was made, and she finally left her home for something other than school. To a birthday party she went, with a pie in her arms, and a small happiness to celebrate her red-headed favourite twins.
On the 14th day, she looked up into the sky and pointed through the clouds to where she thought God might be. “Show yourself!” she cried. The sky remained blue and the clouds sailed back to where they were resting. “What are you trying to do?” she asked. She heard no answer. “Why are you doing this right now, why all at once?” The sky remained the same picture. Then, in a gust of wind — a howling swirl, God said: “This is what you need. Everything must fall apart before it can feel right again.” “I don’t understand: why everything?” To which God replied, “Sweet child, you must try to understand: what seems like the destruction of all things concrete in your life is only the renewal and transformation of darkness to light. No one may have told you, ‘but there will be days like this’ when the rain that falls is what no one foresaw; when your own anger and hate will overwhelm you. There will be days when you’ll feel like the bottom of a garbage can.” She said, “Okay. John Lennon said that, God,” but she could not find the courage to thank Him. When the night fell upon the sky, and The Last of Supper had been had, she found a baby Omen in the form of a little Livia blowing out the candles of a birthday cake. And finally, she understood that there will be days like that – like He said, where the world is dark even under the presence of the sun, but there will be days like this: when Livia turns 2 and she is just so unconditionally happy to be just This. Happy 2! A photograph of little Livia was taken where a glowing, chocolate cake was presented to her in the absence of the sun.
After the fourteenth day, she allowed herself no further grievance. After two weeks of misery, omens and sadness, God spoke to her of these matters just one more time.
Lately she sat in her room and seemed to wait for Him to speak to her. Her heart was as flat and stuck that way as the wallpaper in her Baba’s home, still grey, still ripped, still sort of paisley-like. “He was quiet again,” she thought.” But finally when He did speak, He said: “Sweet child, I watched you cry and squirm; I heard your prayers and those of the many you invited – and I saw a heightened hate slithering from within you. You were turning on us. Your heartbeats were thick, changing, and hunting for other fulfillments. It’s time to follow your real heart, and always. To wherever it points. Because that’s where your true fulfillment waits for this time in your life.” He said, “Tamara, you might hate me for this someday – or it may be exactly what you want. This time, I let you decide. I’ll mute the sounds of those with disdain for as long as I can, but you have to promise the heavens that this will be the absolute last. Nothing living will be capable of handling the wrath of (it) to follow. Blessed be.” And she said, “Thank you for Your mercy,” and looked up through the clouds to say: “May this be the last true piece of mouth. I’ll worship like a dog in the shrine of my life. I’ll tell you my sins – don’t sharpen a knife. Good God, let me give you my Life.” No pictures were taken (Hozier, “Take me to Church”).
