Are You There, God? It's Me, Emily.

One-W

I haven't written for months, God.

Well, the reality is I haven't published much. I write a lot. Read what I wrote. Think of all the reasons someone will hate it and how they will choose to spite me. Strangely, it only takes a glimpse of my Facebook, Nextdoor, or X notifications to remind myself why I've stepped away from sharing my own musings lately.  

So, I decide against it. Save it because if I don't, it was all just a waste of time. And you know, God, I hate wasting time. I throw it in a folder marked "writing" and then, at least since August 10, never look at it again. I've focused on the podcast and the time I spend on it with Samie. With so few listeners, it feels like our safe space to be vulnerable and not worry about saying something that's going to piss someone off.

The last quarter of the year is always rough for me. You know, it's Scorpio season. And regardless of it being my sun sign, it is not where I thrive. Maybe it's the same for others, too, God. Maybe for the same or different reasons.

I take on too much. I start panicking about the future – no matter what it looks like. And while I feel like I'm busting my butt to meet all work and life obligations I've signed myself up for, I start feeling bitter about every message and every request. I unfairly bemoan the thousands of monotonous events people and organizations are trying to fit in before the end of the year and the holiday season, and the money I am asked to spend while simultaneously stressing about making ends meet.

It gets worse, God. I get mad about certain people who come out of the woodwork to wish me a happy birthday on Facebook. The ones who I know don't like me. And they know that I know that they don't like me. And because culturally and because we must love our neighbor, I can't be mad about someone wishing me a happy birthday; I just have to take it. I must graciously accept their small attempt to pretend they give a crap about my life and safety.

I even became bitter when I received a birthday card from someone (whom I love) who is so damn good about birthdays, thank you notes, and emails that it makes me feel unbelievably inept. Anxiety quickly follows that feeling as I run through all the people in my head who must be stewing mad at me because I never sent a proper thank you or birthday greeting. This person has a system! Why can't I have a system!? This feeling is real, God. I feel like Amy Lau in Beef, but at least that series received five awards. 

But who am I kidding, God, everyone is "feeling" it right now, right– angry, woke, broke, conceded, contrite, optimistic, or ominous – choose your own adventure. And God, it doesn't matter what someone's politics or religion might be. All of us, at the very core, are deeply unhappy. You know it. I know it. They know it.

God, are you there?

Surrounding all of this is an election, made worse every four years by a presidential year and even worse over the last 10, in which democracy, many of our lives, and our sense of safety have been under attack daily, and maniacal laughter is at an all-time high.

You there, God? No, seriously, are you?

It's that time when holidays that cost money, require an appearance of perfection, and a cultural expectation that we must give more, do more, and love more are here. Halloween, Thanksgiving, and whatever winter holiday we celebrate stare us down with expectations. They are ready to crush our spirits while forcing us to smile and give.

And it's probably the worst for Christians, God. It's been extra drilled into our heads—more is better, progress means bigger, and everything is black and white. There is only one right way. We must hoard our perceived sense of power, celebrate our supposed individualism, be perfect, and believe that we deserve to always be comfortable and… happy. If we don't meet those expectations, someone else is to blame.

They cover it well if they are not a visible wreck right now. And the feelings build as the first half of the last quarter of the year progresses.

The TikToks and DMs that once made us laugh and smile start getting on our nerves. Some of us get so upset that we must deploy any and all action to squash our perceived opponent's spirit as well. "I'm not going to heart that! So there!"

The commercials, texts, and "spam likely" calls that were a minor inconvenience in September are coming in like the hurricanes Democrats created, or was that you, God? Sorry, it's hard to keep up with the facts.

And that 6 a.m. alarm we hear? That can't be real; it looks like 1 a.m. outside.

Why, God? Why?!

Then, the reality of our situation begins to set in as more and more people finally give in and start paying attention to the election, voting, and the "politics" they didn't want to think about for four years but couldn't really escape.

We begin to see what's behind the stress, and as it turns out, it's a lot of disdain for other people. 

We learn that some of us decided to vote for a convicted felon, fascist, and rapist because women menstruate –or stutter – or talk. Or maybe some of us were undecided or "sitting this one out" because one person "didn't do enough to earn our vote." – or perhaps it was too much; again, not sure; there are a lot of varying opinions out there. Maybe it was just about the cost of eggs. And this one really gets me, God: "I know who I'm voting for. I'm not paying attention this year because it's too stressful." 

Sometimes, I think people vote the way they do because they believe it makes them "different" or that they might know something other people don't. I remember thoughts like this leading to the 2008 election with Obama's "Hope" campaign. As the election neared, I wondered when politics started becoming "so cool." It was how I felt about the first and only time I went to Young Life in 2001. "It's a trick! Church is boring! It's actually not cool at all! We believe because we have to, not because it's fun. I've been here for a while! Don't be fooled by the hype!"

Thankfully, it all worked out for the best that election. But thinking back to when my politics was shifting and I was starting to let go of the beliefs my upbringing instilled in me, it's the only way I can put myself in the shoes of someone who voted for anyone but Kamala Harris and Tim Walz.

Although it was nice back then—you know, back when I avoided everything happening around me and assumed I had all the answers when I finally decided to pay attention—now, I feel like I'm paying so much attention, and I'm not sure about anything anymore.

I kind of like that, God.

I've never walked away from any election, even the ones I've been personally invested in, feeling better, whether there was a win or a loss.

Thanks to therapy and being mindful that "winter is coming," I was ready for the same old fourth-quarter feelings this year, God. And if not my financials, home security, or emergency preparedness kit, at least my mind and heart were ready for the worst.

Thanks for that, God. I guess.

The disdain and stress everyone feels, especially this time of year, they don't disappear because of how we voted. You showed me a long time ago that doing anything half-ass, out of spite, to shut people up, add fuel to the fire, make bad feelings go away, or fix all the problems doesn't work. Votes don't work that way. We work that way.

No matter how hard someone might cover it up with cheer, fireworks, and pleas to those they have disappointed to move on and pass the turkey – they won't find the happiness they think they seek. The vote was just a temp check, and we still have the flu.

So, God, what now?

Do I yell and scream on social channels? Berate Latinos and white women? Add to the punditry that we did too much or not enough? Capitalize on the chaos by starting a new political party? Organize a new group to save democracy and reinvent the wheel... again? Force people to be part of "the change" and stress them even more before Q4 of 2028? Start a podcast? Uh… God, a lot of us have already done this all before.

Or, I should resign myself to the wants and needs of the popular vote. Give in to the clear majority. How about that, God? Force my husband to join Grove Church, raise my hands, and rejoice? Repent for believing that Americans are not as vile as they have proved themselves to be in 2024?

Do I become an influencer, hawk mops, and eye cream on TikTok and Instagram? I see a lot of people doing that, God, and it seems like they are doing great.

Do I dive into Pinterest and decorate my home with fake greenery from the dollar store? Do I spend money I don't have at Costco to make the perfect holiday spread? I feel like I've tried that before, too. 

Or maybe I should get one of those signs for my living room that says, "Life, Laugh, Love." Perhaps I should take down my pride flag and add a "We don't call 911" sign with a gun mounted above it.

James should join the union and the chorus of men who continually vote against their best interests and would sell women's bodies for a penny raise on their paycheck. Good trade, good trade, but I still can't afford an avocado.

Should I look up and praise you when the gas pump reads $55 instead of $60 after a fill-up? Shall I use all that money I saved to buy the biggest pickup truck I can find and blow exhaust in people's faces? Those folks seem totally content with their lives.

Should I openly accept and bow down to my new saviors, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Marco Rubio, Hulk Hogan, and Kid Rock? Should I pack my bags for Russia or China? Or wait until they get here?

God, a part of me would love to just leave, float off into space, and get blown up with Elon Musk, or maybe just fast-forward 10 years to my 50s to see if the world can be saved or if Maya Rudolph's character Rita in Idiocracy is more accurate than her playing Vice President Kamala Harris on SNL.

And let's be real, God. I can't get up and move for many reasons. There is no way I can make that happen. And it would not be fair to people who depend on me. And what a privilege it is to even consider that, God.

But thanks for looking out for me, God. Washington state is one of the safest places I can be. And thanks to so many people's hard work, this is true for me and all Washingtonians, even that assholes. I just hope we don't take that for granted, God.

God, I've tried being nice. I've tried being mean. I've tried to change myself. I've tried fighting. I've tried conceding. I've tried working harder. I've tried putting up boundaries. I've faked it and put all my vulnerabilities out there.

I've passed the mashed potatoes to my family in Idaho like it's no big thang, and I smiled and talked about the weather with the asshats who hate me.

Why do I and thousands like me keep having to be the bigger person? Why do we have to be the pain in people's side?! Why is it always too much or not enough?

Ok, God. This is clearly a one-way conversation, but I'm still going. I'm still here, and you have to listen to me; you're God!

What was that, God?! I'm sorry, I thought the burning apple tree outside my window was courtesy of the neighborhood MAGA dude.

Come closer? Oh, not too close!? Yes, my shoes are already off. What does that matter?

What are you telling me through this burning apple tree?

My feelings are valid? My anger is valid? My ancestors have felt this before?

I have been chosen? I have been chosen along with others to lead America out of this current reality? 

That sounds like a lot, God.

Seek meaning over happiness? Be the courageous, me? Lean in?

Ok, Sheryl Sandberg. That's hilarious.

Turn to my community? Atone for the privileges that I've experienced?

Order abortion medication, donate to an abortion fund, give a monthly contribution to Planned Parenthood?

I think I can do all this, God.

Stop trying to be everything to everyone and start giving less fucks?! Ok, God, what do you mean? Zero fucks about the people and organizations that hide behind false virtues? Lick my wounds? Get the fuck back up?

Be a bitch? Be an even bigger bitch?

God, I didn't know you had a potty mouth like me.

Keep podcasting? Keep writing? I don't know if I can or will be able to keep writing and podcasting, but this flame is starting to melt the siding on the house, and I can't afford that right now.

Never give up the fight for a future where everyone can pursue their dreams, ambitions, and aspirations? Never stop believing that fighting for what's right is worth it?

God, I think you're plagiarizing now, but I hear you. I got it. This is the long game.

God, you can turn down the flames; they're inside of me now.

Amen.

One-Way Conversations with God 2024 Election

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