God's Waiting Room

I wait for a century, no, a millennia. I’ve been waiting for tomorrow since yesterday. I’ve overseen the ravages of this world. A baby was left in a shopping bag. A pregnant mother died by missing her seat, as her niece pushed it away from her from under the table. A gymnast who failed to land her stunt. A conman who had two lives to come home to. 

Each second has an unknown peril. In each savage desperation, the eyes of the people who are close to death talk to me. They sit in God’s waiting room and wait in line to speak to God. Instead, they speak to me first. I speak to them to share with them how I feel.

I said to the baby in the shopping bag, “There is a tomorrow you don’t know.” The baby’s eyes responded with a deep sense of longing. She doesn’t know what ‘to live’ means. Or what tomorrow is. But she still wants to see it. The door to God had opened before her. The baby floated towards the door and was never seen again.

I said to the pregnant mother and her child, “There is a tomorrow you don’t know.” Their eyes were ruined with revenge. They wanted a life together and wanted me to say that very phrase to the niece that had led them to God’s waiting room. The door to speak with Him opened. The two eyes floated towards the door, and were never seen again.

I said to the conman, “There is a tomorrow you don’t know.” His eyes responded with a new glimmer. He was revived back to life by paramedics. He didn’t get to meet God. He was given another chance to live.

Then the eyes of someone started to attach to a face. The lips and nose prodded out. A live human was taking shape in God’s waiting room. I said to him, “Please remain with only your eyes.” He spoke, “I will have my full capacities in this world.” There, I could not stop them from taking shape. I said, “You do not need those in this world.” The human spoke to me and said, “There is a tomorrow you don’t know.” With the last words he spoke, the door to God opened before me.