I met God the other day.
At least I believe I met god the other day. I was standing in the line at my local pharmacy and this long gray haired Jewish man, with a bad back, was standing in front of me. At no point in particular he turned and with a wry smile on his wrinkled and weathered face he asked, “how ya doing?”
I smiled, because quite honestly, I could not remember the last time anyone had asked me such a caring question, and I replied, “could not be better, how about you?”
“Oye, my back hurts,” God said, “that’s why I’m here. I don’t like to take the pain medication, but it’s the only thing I can do to get any rest.”
“How old are you,” I asked.
“Today? Today I feel like I am a thousand years old.”
“Well, then, you should take all the pain medication you need.”
“Oh I will, but as I said, I don’t like taking it. I have much to do and the medication slows me down.”
“How can you have so much to do, you are obviously quite old.”
“Being old does not preclude you from accomplishment,” God said.
“Well, good luck to you,” I said, without any hint of sarcasm.
“So we are done here?” God asked, almost seeking sympathy.
“Well, I was getting the idea you needed to move on.”
“Not at all, I am enjoying our conversation. You seem like a friendly sort.”
“Oh I am.”
“You do know who I am, yes?”
“An old Jewish man waiting in line at the pharmacy?”
“That is true, but I am more than an old man.”
“Arn’t we all,” I said, that time sarcastically.
“I am a father, and I am more than a father,” God said, with all sorts of intonations that seemed to reveal he was speaking in metaphor. My ears seemed to perk up just a bit and my focus was sharper than I can recall it being in years.
It was right after he said that little poetic mystery that a cashier opened up and waved him over. He walked away from me, in obvious discomfort. I was waiting in line when it dawned on me, that old man was God. I sensed it more than anything, but it was a clear give away when I realized that not only was he in great personal pain (probably from the sins of all humanity) but he was also still finding the time to comfort a stranger and offer sage advice. For a second I closed my eyes and basked in the beauty of my conversation with God.
Another cashier was waving and so I walked up and gave her my name and she turned to get my medication. I looked to my right and God was gone. Just like that. A small miracle because an elderly Jewish man who grimaces when he walks could not just disappear so quickly, unless, of course, he was God.
When the pharmacist assistant came back with my medication, she looked at me and said, “you look blissful, as you sure you even need this medication?”
“Well, I was talking to God a minute ago and now I feel a sense of peace I have never quite experienced,” I said, with a beatific smile on my face.
“Yeah,” she said, “ you totally need your meds.”
I met God the other day.