If God came to breakfast (Dateline September 2005)

(Dedicated to my dad, who can't fathom the reason for, or the reality of, seven kids at home - but who supports me anyway)

A friend of mine recently told me she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was undergoing chemotherapy. As she is in one of those states far, far away from Northern Michigan, I can’t be much practical help. I do try and keep her in my thoughts and prayers, and keep up with her by e-mail. The last time I e-mailed her we were swapping medical horror stories (I’m sure everyone has a few scares here and there). The kind that puts things into perspective and makes you reassess where your life is heading. In one of our e-mails I told her it sure would be nice if God was a little more direct about what He wanted us to do. She told me she felt the same way. If only He would lay out daily directions while we slaved over endless PB&J sandwiches for the kids’ lunches, or washed the unending piles of dirty laundry.

So I wondered what would happen if God ever came to breakfast. At my house it would have to be pretty darn early because my kids get up at 6 a.m. But I can see it now – there I am in my husband’s ratty old bathrobe (so ratty that I can’t wash it anymore for fear it would disappear altogether) and God comes to breakfast.

I think if it ever happened I’d show Him my list of requested navigational aids I’d also have a list of questions I’d like answered. Like how come Hecan’t be more specific about what I’m supposed to be doing here and how I’m supposed to be doing it? And how do I know that I’m supposed to go back and adopt that child I can’t get out of my mind, and convince my husband that it’s not my own irrational thinking getting in control…again.

I’d request a road map marked in day-glo pink highlighter showing which way I’m supposed to go and how I’m supposed to get there. I’d ask for a map that showed mountains and tunnels, with sidebars explaining the best way to get around or through them to the other side. I would like clear directions for once, not the whispered response I sometimes hear inside my head during rare moments of quiet reflection.

If not a map, how about a billboard? One that I could put up in the front yard that listed the goals for each day. It wouldn't have to be big and flashy, just detailed enough to show me life’s construction zones, passing lanes and danger areas.

Or how about just a flashlight to help me navigate the dark places. One of those really big flashlights with lots of batteries that don’t need recharging, because sometimes my faith doesn’t seem to be strong enough to pour enough light in the dark places that I keep finding.

And if I can’t have a flashlight or a map in day-glo pink or a billboard, I’d like a really good guide to help me through the fear and desperation all the while holding on to my hand as hard as he can. So, God, if you ever come to breakfast – please bring me a road map. I’ll bring the coffee and donuts. But please bring it soon. The flashlight I’m using is growing dim.