An Old, Familiar Question~

I was talking to my mom on the phone today. Joy was being shared. Surreal circumstances had brought us to our current conversation. We were talking about this opportunity that lies before me; this tremendous God-gift that seemed to fall from the sky into my lap, as if beckoned by Aladdin’s genie of the lamp. I can almost hear Robin Williams’s shrill shriek of mirth as he conjured up this miracle of mine (insert farcical fanfare here___________).

After this brief, Zack-Morris inspired interlude occurs inside my head, the phone call commences once again. We continue our praise and thanksgiving for the sponsors who are sending me on this adventure, as well as acknowledging the One who placed it upon their hearts to foster an interest in this obscurity-born ink flowing from my pen.

At one break in the conversation, my mom stopped suddenly and posed to me a single question: “Andy, Have you ever wondered, ‘Why you?’” I paused to ponder this. “ Everyday.” was my loaded reply.

Everyday I come into contact with situations that I ask: “Why Me?” There are times (such as this present scenario) when I softly, humbly, whisper to the Heavens, in utter gratitude, the inquiry, “Why Me?”

Conversely, in moments of disappointment (a love lost, a heart divided, a friendship broken, or a trust dishonored), I earnestly beg to know and understand, “Why Me?”

Humorous occasions (the trip over the non-existent something on the sidewalk, the bodily function that so rudely forgot to ask permission before it escaped from my possession, and pretty much every single self-written, sleep-inducing speech of my entire freshmen apologetics class) call for the hilarity-induced howl of disbelief (yet not really, for I am quite often ridiculous), “Why Me!”

But the most vivid season(s) of my life have taken place when the pain is so palpable that I can almost feel the heat of my heart—burning, blazing a trail of barbaric proportions…the fire licks and spews; the stench of a soul being seared is almost too much for my stomach to handle. It longs to purge the repugnant pain. It writhes beneath the crushing weight of it all as I raise my angry fist to the sky, crying out in agony and rage at the injustice of it all, “ WHY ME?”

I have yet to receive an audible, or even measurable answer to these question(s)…I use the plural here because they are all very different queries in my mind. I understand that I am not “owed” an answer. I understand that I may not need an answer. I understand that I may never understand. I understand that I do not have to understand—and that this life is a song with a harmony made of many distant chords—strange melodies that may not always sound to the untrained ear as right—and yet the beat goes on~ And that is all the understanding that I need~