Me, Little Me, and God, Part II

"Little Me" is me at 14, talking to big bad me, as I am now, not-so-grown-up at 33.
Part I is here.
(With continued thanks to Zenchick. *hugs*)

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Little Me: WHOA! Stop it! What do you think you're DOING!?

Me: Uh... nothing. I'm walking.

Little Me: You don't know what's out there!

Me: Ok... but I think I know what's NOT back there. (Points behind her)

Little Me: But ANYTHING could be out there!

Me: Yes. But I think I can handle it.

Little Me: But HOW do you know?

Me: Well, I guess I don't really know.

Little Me: So what are you doing? How do you know it's safe?

Me: I don't know. I just... trust.

Little Me: Trust who? Trust what?

Me: (gives her a long look.) I don't think you really want me to answer that.

Little Me: Oh please. You're so not talking about God.

Me: I sort of am.

Little Me: (snorts) You're an idiot.

Me: Well, that's mean.

Little Me: Well, I'm sorry, but you are.

(They stare at each other.)

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God: Girls! You're both pretty!

(The girls giggle, embarrassed.)

God: See, God can always make you laugh.

Me: Oh, that's for sure.

Little Me: (Pointing to Me, angrily) Do you talk to her?

God: Sure. All the time.

Little Me: THEN WHY DON'T YOU EVER TALK TO ME!? (Cries) WHY DON'T YOU EVER TALK TO MEEEEEE!?

Me: (quietly) I remember that...

A woolen blanket woven in Native American patterns appears, draped about Little Me's shoulders. She pulls it tightly around herself, and over her head. She sinks to the ground and sobs, a shaking mound of red and black and yellow blanket.

Me: (Looking down at her) I couldn't hear God when I was your age. I remember. I tried so hard to get God to communicate with me somehow, anything at all... I remember what that was like. And I remember how safe I felt locked away in small rooms with blankets and darkness. (pause. Looks up, at God.) And how lonely I was.

God: Little One? (Little Me pokes her head out, looking up at God.) It's ok to be angry. I'm sorry you couldn't hear me... but you make a lot of noise! You could at least turn the music down. (Little Me giggles in spite of herself.) Dearest one. I can't tell you what the future will hold. I can't promise you'll never be hurt. But I can promise that I will never leave you, no matter what happens. I've been with you the whole time, you know.

Me: (darkly) So why couldn't we tell?

God: You never had the chance to lie still. Like most people, you're very easily distracted by outward, this-world concerns. Even when you laid on the grass in the park, your friends pulled you to your feet to play some games. You never had any quiet, did you?

Me: Not really. I guess we didn't.

Little Me: Home sure isn't quiet.

God: And anger can be blinding, you know.

Me: Yeah. That I know.

Little Me: But how do I just stop being angry? Stop being scared? I can't just decide not to be mad and scared, and then it just vanishes!

God: You're right, you can't make it just stop right away. But you don't have to. The trick is to make sure you don't stop listening, or loving, or hoping, or believing. You can do all those things even while you're mad, or scared. That's what trust is, Ouiser. It's not about the absence of fear, or anger, or sadness. It's about persevering in the belief - the hope - that the bad feelings will end. That's trust.

Little Me: (Sits Indian style on the ground, holding the blanket around herself) Can I keep this?

God: Of course you can, little one. I gave it to you to help you feel safe.

Me: (panicked) But I lost it! I don't know where it is now! I don't have that blanket anymore!

God: That's ok, Ouiser... you stopped needing it for awhile. Remember?

Me: Oh... yeah.

God. So you gave it to someone who did need it. (rumbles from the sky)

Me: What's that? (Little Me holds the blanket over her head, looking up)

God: (smiling) Your grandma is proud of you for that. (rumble) Both of them.

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Little Me: How could you give this away!?

Me: Like God said... we won't need it someday. (crouching down to Little Me's level) You keep it as long as you like.

Little Me: But... what about you? It's cold in New York.

Me: (Smiling, sitting down) Just a few years ago, a very close friend of mine knitted me a beautiful blanket. I have that one now. Friends are a gift from God too.

Little Me: You have a lot of friends?

Me: (pause) I know a lot of people. I do have several real friends though. More than just two or three. (Tucks a strand of Little Me's hair behind her ear) You know, a lot of people only ever have one. Some never have any.

Little Me: I don't have any.

Me: You will.

Little Me: And I guess I should just trust you on that.

Me: (smiling) Yup.

Me Stands, and walks off, straight ahead. Little Me stands, holding the blanket around herself, watching. She takes one step forward, stops.