THE OBSERVATION BOOTH
OP-ED BY ANDREA DIALECT
OFF TOPIC
God has been conceived as either personal or impersonal. In theism God is the creator and the sustainer of the universe, while in deism, God is the creator, but not the sustainer, of the universe. In pantheism, God is the universe itself.
(In Christianity and other monotheistic religions) the creator and ruler of the universe and source of all moral authority, the supreme Being.
(In certain other religions) a superhuman being or spirit worshiped as having power over nature or human fortunes, a deity.
BOW DOWN…
It was around 3 a.m. on a Sunday that I was yanked out of my slumber. I could gauge by the inflection of the voice that this directive was not to be taken lightly… And I quote “Get up now and pray for Dominant,” I’d been told, “or it will be mayhem.” End of quote!
That 11:00 am call from my son that day could have been a dreadful reality for our family. Yet, the incident was bitter-sweet as confirmation. Thus, my being VIP with the guy upstairs and my obedience have once again proven themselves to be essential.
“In times like these, we need a savior. In times like these, we need an anchor. But be very sure, be very sure, that your anchor holds and grips to that solid rock.” That is an excerpt from a song that I used to haphazardly sing as a soloist way back when in church. But, boy oh boy, is it a guide and comfort now!
CALL EM…
Presently there are so many different faiths and belief systems that we are dedicated to or are committing our lives to that it is mind-boggling, to say the least. Seemingly everyone has their own. Ironically those numbers which are capable of tipping the Richter scale and with faith and guides of such a magnitude, seemingly our world would be a much better place.
When I call mine, he’s Johnny on the spot and he’s got my back no matter what. The incident that I discussed above doesn’t even scratch the surface. Yet, my God has proven faithful every single time. We’ve been talking even more so lately about the condition of man and our world. We are in such a way that I am moved to go full throttle with intercessory prayer for loved ones and those whose paths I cross when we do or do not officially meet.
Because of our state, I am asking everyone out there to have a chat with yours. Whether yours is a God of old, a God that is new, or one garbed under the guise of sex, drugs, drinking, fun, smoking, freedoms, choice, people, or things. Be it a necessity, vanity or whatever, or whomever stakes claim. Call them up and tell em we sure could use some help around here!
For the sake of humanity let’s put ’em to the test and let’s see what he, she or it does. Unfortunately, I do not have a staff that extends its reach that can gobble up those that we might find to be imposters like Moses did. But, I pray that my words will extend their reach. We are spirit beings thus we must seek aid from such.
Below you will find a piece that I wrote mainly about my mother, although my father, and my grandmother as so others stood in the gap for me during those times when I was simply clueless. Thankfully because of their guidance I can now hold that space for my own!
PUT IT ON SPEED DIAL…
“TRUTHFULLY, VANITY CAN’T SAVE A DAMNED SOUL!”
COVERAGE
Neither accident, theft, death, fire, nor dental or medical; nothing of the sort for six rambunctious kids, a spouse, and this woman for a substantial amount of time, yet not even a broken fingernail. Technically speaking, our household hadn’t ever been without coverage and when my grandmother was alive, there had been two policies in place: both being all-inclusive. My mother has since maintained that same policy. This insurance, of which my immediate family and I are direct beneficiaries, allows us to breathe easily, beyond the burdensome grasp of circumstance.
When things do arise that shake up my peaceful sleuthing, I call my mother, of course, making a request that she up the ante, because knowing her faith is very convincing, when I am confronting things outside of my control. Prayers are whispered without hesitation or complaint, and, if need be, shamelessly; she vociferously makes appeal. Banking on my mother’s policy was the norm. A secured interest made inconsistencies guiltless in my liberty to choose. To pray or not to pray!
Until one dreadful night, when an agonizing plea for help would awaken me from my slumber. Looking out into the frigid night air from my window, I watched several very dedicated East Orange Police Officers and Firefighters embark upon a rescue effort to free a man trapped in a car which rapidly was becoming a fiery inferno.
As moments passed, I felt removed: I was certain that what I gazed upon was nothing more than the remains of a person gone on, when his faint moans once again called for my help. But what could I have done from the restrictive position of the second-story windowsill of a house? While I pondered this, as unmistakably as wolves howl in the dead of night the ole church mothers’ ceaseless chants could be heard. Prayer had boldly presented itself as an option.
I prayed for that man the best I could. I prayed that upon his departure, on the other side of that threshold, someone remained who, on his behalf, had made moment-to-moment implications upon his exit their normal regimen until his return. I prayed that his mama prayed, or had done so when capable of doing; if not then, then long ago, and those prayers of the past would show up and hover over his dangling life like a halo: one redeemable at necessity for an entire lifetime.
I prayed that if he had raised children, and he was a daddy who taught them the importance of hope and that their nightly dreams created images which faith is to be built upon, producing bedtime prayers that lingered near, whispered only moments ago. I prayed for those below who were at risk, working towards the accomplishment of a rescue vowed. I prayed for the ability to pray, that I might stand in the gap for him.
There in the snow, surrounded by the frigid air and blanketed by pain, the man who lay beneath my window had been totally unaware of my assistance, as I, too, had been unaware and unable to understand the importance of the same deed performed tirelessly by my mother. Though visible enough, in thought, even my subtle needs cajoled her help.
But when need presents itself, who will stand for her? Who will be as swift to pause and quick to give utterance, knowing nothing of procrastination, being committed in such ways that not even a single moment is given to idleness? Who is known to be anchored in such tenacity? And when burdens amplify, who will stand for us when she’s gone?
Prayer is a position of permanency, thus, seeking serious inquiries only. One need not apply if prone to a faint heart, because our dependency on burrowed prayers will certainly increase. Callused knees covered by raveled socks or worn hosiery; a mouth hasty to plead, infused with a heart swift to pause – these must be welcomed by potential prospects. Such generosity can never be exclusive to birthdays, holidays, or any occasion that one cares to recognize. Nor can it be subject to time constraints, biases, or judgment. Prayer… it is the ultimate gift. Never is it usurped by pre-request in pretty packaging, and it’s of greater value than any suggestive words of sentiment. Truthfully, vanity can’t save a damned soul. But who dare stand?
