07/17/2014 03:25 pm ET Updated Sep 16, 2014

An Open Letter to G-d

Dear G-d,

This letter is long overdue and I know it. This isn't our first conversation, yet I feel as though there are things that must be said, words that must be heard -- you know, that sort of thing.

I should start off by thanking you for all you've blessed me with thus far. You've been kind to me -- often too kind, I assume. Let's face it; I'm not the greatest human being of all time. Nonetheless, my life has been pretty good and you've been good to me. There have been so many wonderful moments; moments when I was sure that things couldn't possibly get any better than they were at that very moment in time.

And well, there have been the-not so great moments too, but does a perfect life actually exist? I haven't done much living, so I couldn't really tell you all that much about a perfect life.

There have been those really shitty moments where I've been really angry with you, G-d. Of course, the person I was most disappointed in was myself; but we humans never pick up on our own misgivings until it's often too late. There have been moments where I would turn to you and I'd ask, "G-d, where are you going with this?" a rough edge to my tone, my own ignorance swallowing my appreciation. Yet, I've always known that your love knows no bounds. I've always known that you just want what's best for me. In my heart of hearts, I can see the truth.

After all, you have entrusted my husband and I with the most precious and dazzling of gifts that one can ever hope to receive: our beautiful son. He has made us feel like we are the luckiest two people on planet earth and we will never be able to repay you, other than by trying to be good parents to him. We're young and stupid, but we are determined.

We appreciate the little things, too. Small doses of divine providence show up everywhere in our lives, kind of like when I miraculously bypassed what could have resulted in a deathly car crash, or when my husband and I made the decision to stay home for a few extra moments before heading out to eat, enabling us to help our neighbor put out the accidental fire she created. And it's not just in those frightening or dangerous instances where we recognize you, either. It's all the time. It's everywhere.

You're everywhere, G-d.

Yet, life's kinda tough all around, isn't it? We're all lugging around overweight baggage and we all have our own miserable crap to deal with. Sometimes it all seems unbelievably impossible, this life.

We're just the little people, G-d. You know what I mean? Of course you do.

We yell at you in our cars, we beg you to go easy on us, and we make all kinds of wild promises; hoping that you will grant us this one last thing, answer our one last request. Sometimes you do, G-d. You give us just what we ask for; you hand us just what we thought we really needed.

I guess I'm writing this all now because I'm craving that godly connection; I need to know that it will be okay. I need to know that things will work out and that everything happens for a reason. That there is a castle waiting for us on the other side of that bridge.

I pay attention to the signs. I look for them in the mundane and I notice them. I believe in my own capabilities; I believe in others and I believe that you gave me the power to achieve greatness. I believe that all you want for us is to live a life worth living.

I believe in you, G-d.

This one's for you.

This letter is a reminder; a reminder for myself. A reminder that there is a bigger picture than the picture we're certain we've seen before. This here is reminder that there is more to life than dollar bills and shiny cars. A reminder that we still have so much more living left to do.

We're the ones who have to figure it all out. We're the ones who need to step up and find the godliness within ourselves. We're the ones who have all of the answers. We just don't know it yet.

So, keep doing what you're doing, G-d. I know, I know... you're not going anywhere.

Fight wars; grant us peace, save the world and save us from ourselves.

You know what to do.
You always know what to do.


One of the little people