Excuse me God, I have a question - Part I

EXCUSE ME LORD I HAVE A QUESTION

Lord, is it just possible that you take my life right now? Why does life have to continually treat me this way? Could there be something somewhere, someone somewhere who shares my pain, who knows what I am going through?

It is for no fault of mine that I grew up without parents. Everyone my age that I know of grew up in the warmth and under the tutelage of their parents, but me? No. Rather than swaddling me, and laying me in a crib, the stories I was told by the orphanage that raised me was that: someone had gone to the garbage hill to empty his trash can and found that something was wrapped in rags and laid on trash, it made sound like the voice of a little babe. That thing was me. He found me, but that was not the only thing he found. He found also that I had been left in the cold, exposed to the weather all night, and examined further to discover that my face had turned all blue, and… I had severe pneumonia and heart issues. That was as far as he could go with the doctor’s examination before he couldn’t return for me. Would I blame him? Who would?

I eventually got to the caregivers’ home called the orphanage, and tried growing up like other kids, but who doesn’t know that that is going to be as far as possible from possible? Life was difficult for the heart-infected baby who every once in a while falls prey to the claws of other severe health problems. Of course I became a burden to the orphanage and a good, I mean bad drain on their meager purse, since there was nobody really interested in helping with my case. They had to find a way of giving me out without fully disclosing my conditions, because if they did, I may never leave their home.

The other day someone gave me a book they called the good book. I guess that was all she had to give. I struggled to read and found that there was someone they called Job in it. He was just minding his own business, If I understand the story well enough, when You asked the devil if he had seen this man. This man lost all his children, his wife left him and so did his health. He lost what was left of life and even friends would not just let him be. Alright, must we have a Job in every age? If there must be a Job in every generation, am I the contemporary Job? Did you perhaps ask the devil if he had seen me too? Why must it be me Lord? Why me? Have I not even seen more in life than hell could possibly offer? Why don’t you just kill me?

I read some other parts of that book, and it said, You care for me. But Lord, that is true only as far as the book goes I assure you. Do You really care? Do You care that the parents who eventually adopted me had to find a way of letting me wander out of the house without doing anything to get me back because I had become the cankerworm and the caterpillar, the devourer that was sent to wreck their economy. Even though they meant well by adopting me, they ended up losing almost everything by having me. Why am I created to be a drain in people’s life? Why am I not like every other kid my age? Why has life dealt me a huge blow and You look on unperturbed? Why do You say You care when all around me falls short in the face of that statement from You? Why is my life such a waste? Why, why, why Lord? I have a question.

In my wandering around, the only place I did not sleep on was a mattress. My body has formed like a rock because that is the only surface it is used to. Never in my life have I had three meals a day, in fact I would be glad just to find food. Hoodlums got a hold of me one night, and their treatment of me is nothing anyone would wish their enemies. I was practically confined to their room, locked up. I cooked their meals and served their sexual needs. That was all they needed me for every day, and, there were about seven of them who did it every day. The police came to raid the place one day, and that was my deliverance. It was back to the streets. Is this what you wish for me Lord?

Watch out for Part II of this...