God, here’s my resume

I’m working on my resume for God. He didn’t ask for it and it might be a silly exercise. But I want to be ready, just in case God needs it.

Date of birth. Well he knows that. I better not fudge the date. The trend is toward younger people these days, but there’s no getting around this one.

Education. I did go to some school. But I basically a quitter and the list of higher learning institutions are long and the end results short.

Work experience. I sit up at this one. I’ve worked and done pretty well. Got some raises along the way. But basically, most of the time, He gave me the jobs. I was over my head.

Awards. I open up my memory chest and there are some good boy pieces of paper from elementary school. I have a couple of ribbons from my military days. I was a real go getter. And my present employer has given several awards, metal accolades on rosewood wood squares. But do they really mean a thing?

Then the thought hits me. It’s all rubbish!

I roll it up the scribbled paper and throw it like a ball across the room, burying my face in my hands.

The truth is that in nearly every important area of my life, there’s so little to say. .

I’ve a string of broken relationships, scattered along the highway that I call my life.
My God is often a stranger to me.

Have I wasted my life?

Suddenly, there’s a tap on my shoulder and I look up at a Smiling Face. He hands me a pen and a piece of paper, snow white, washed by blood.

Please, share with a friend if you feel moved.
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