A Second Letter From God

I suppose I should have been satisfied with the first letter: I mean, just how often does the Almighty write to us? Not since He did it on stone, I suppose. But I am human and so rarely content-- then too, I still had so many questions, like why must children suffer cruelty or deathly ills-- and why are the aged so often forgotten, ignored, neglected? Why do so many hunger for vengeance while others thirst for a drop of love? Before the act is always the thought-- so why do we lessen the other, turn him into an animal, some predator to be feared and hunted to extinction? And why do we peacock ourselves with plumes of ego and pride, then go strutting into the world like petty kings, wood-hearted queens? And always, always, we are we less than we could be, sad thin shadows of that person we know could, and should walk free on the sun-lit earth? I wrote this unmailed letter knowing He would read the words before I could put them down-- but I did not expect an answer... so when I found another letter slipped under my door, this too written in a hand of unearthly beauty, I gasped with guilt and fear: was I too greedy and just foolish to want to know the Mind of God: why He made us the way we are, what He wants from us, of us, for us? Now I began trembling, my fearful heart pounding like it would burst open! Still, I opened the letter and read: "I really am breaking all my own rules in writing you again, and I'm not sure why-- yes, I don't always know my own mind-- I told you all a long time ago you were made in My image-- I suppose I am intrigued, for the answers you seek have been sought always, throughout time, ever really since I put that immortal part of you in your ancestors, and so turned animal into human, and instinct into choice.... I gave your species everything needed: reason, imagination, speech, and my greatest gift-- love strong enough to transcend even time. And what did humans do with these wonders? You waged war endlessly and oppressed the weak, breaking them as though they were clay pots and not my beloved children. So I sent prophets to warn you to choose light before the dark ate your souls. I even sent my only son to lead you home, but you killed him-- and you wonder why life is hard?" As always, faithfully yours, God