Skip to main content

I look around

This is another page from my ninth book called "Dear God". I was inspired to write this book after writing "I am voting for God" on my blog. It continues in that format. Short letters (or prayers) to God. It gives me an opportunity to write more and write to God at different moments in my life.
___________________

Dear God,

I look around and see the clouds that bring the rains that life depends on. I see the sunshine that gives us energy. I see the balance of nature and complexity of life. I see the progress that intelligence drives. I see the mothers that give birth to new life. I see the doctors that cure illness. I see the laborers that endure the heat of the day. I see the colourful sunsets and the majestic mountains. I see so much and I tell myself that this could not be by accident. There must be a God and there must be purpose and meaning to our being.

I also see the bad. The destruction, wars and poverty. The greed and senselessness. The wickedness and sadness. The discomfort and illnesses. Badness threatens our sensibilities and feeds disillusionment but it also lends to our purpose. It positions us to make the best of what we have and where we are. It makes sense to have faith in You and work towards the hereafter.

There is purpose in creating a better world. There is purpose in working towards a better world. There is meaning in overcoming and solving our problems. There is joy in doing the right things. As I see it, You give us life and free will and we search for purpose and give life meaning. You are infinitely wise and I have faith in Your reasons. You are the antidote. You gave us pain but You also gave us the rain to wash away the pain, metaphorically speaking. I look around and I see that God is in each drop of rain.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A pot of callaloo

Call for Submissions: Archipelagic Entanglements   https://singaporeunbound.org/opp/archipelagic-entanglements When I saw the call for submissions online I was doubtful. I do not know enough history. I do not understand the topic. Then after chatting with my friend Chatty I realised maybe I can be the topic. My ethnic and racial makeup is an archipelagic entanglement. Colonialism meets indentureship meets slavery. My mom is East Indian muslim and my dad is French, Portuguese and Mulato christian and who knows what else. I am an example of a pot of callaloo. Everyone's favorite Sunday lunch. I am what happens when lineages cross oceans and histories collide. I am thinking to myself now, what is the message I want to put forward with my blog post? What is the direction I want to take? Maybe it is this. What can we do when we have such a rich heritage and know so little of our own history? First of all I do not think I am alone with this struggle. I did not realise this until I though...

Cup of coffee

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . The cool morning breeze blew the hat off the tourist passing the coffee shop. We sat at the table waiting for our order of coffee and bagels. I had stayed up late writing and was now needing caffeine to stay awake. On entering the veranda of the coffee shop, the sign reads "happiness is a cup of coffee" and "sip your troubles away". This had me thinking about what is happiness? And was the theme of my chat with Chatty as we enjoyed our breakfast in Tobago. I told my friend Chatty that if we could put happiness in a bottle and sell it we would be rich. My friend Chatty then told me that money cannot buy happiness but it was a good idea to make a living. If according to the sign, happiness is a cup of coffee then maybe happiness is coffee in a bottle then. We could call it Caffibean, a taste of the Caribbean in Tobago, a blend of the happiest coffee beans from Tobago. Tobago is not known for its coffee p...

Sandy beaches

This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . This story begins on a cool Friday evening in May. Fridays are the best days. Already a great start. It had rained earlier in the day and the clouds were moving away and the sun peeking through. I walked from the apartment where I was staying to Pigeon Point beach. Along the way I stopped for coconut water freshly extracted from the nut and straight into my mouth leaving traces on my cotton jersey. They say that coconut water is the drink of God—fresh from the nut, sweet with a hint of salt, a liquid reminder that paradise can exist in small and simple things. They did not say that but my friend Chatty did. It is my friend Chatty's first trip to Tobago. I asked him what he thinks of Tobago so far? He grinned, wiping a drop of coconut water from the corner of his mouth. "Man… it is like stepping into a painting. The air, the colors, the way everything smells after the rain—it is unreal. I did not know paradise cam...