Last Friday, the heavens opened, and I heard the voice of God. At least I’m 99% sure it was God. I had woken up on Friday morning with the realization that I had not been to Church in quite some time. A lifetime of church going, and four years of Catholic school have instilled in me just the right amount of Catholic guilt that makes me fret when I miss Church but also allows me to write off “being too tired” as a valid excuse not to go. I knew though that I couldn’t make up any excuses when I got a direct sign from God telling me to go. This sign came in the form of me dropping my phone at the gym, but it being saved from hitting the floor and shattering by the chord of my earbuds. I’m just glad that God stopped trying to get people’s attention with lightning strikes and locust plagues and switched to potential technological malfunctions.
And so, I left and headed on my pilgrimage down the street to St. Stephen’s, ready to be enlightened. When I reached the church, I was a couple minutes late, but I figured God wouldn’t care. I mean what was God going to do, judge me? Anyways, I get to the church at approximately 12:14 and I am faced with the problem of not knowing how to get in. There are four different doors on the front of this building and I don’t know which is the right one. I am standing there trying to figure this out when I hear, a shrill voice yell, “what are you staring at?” I stop and look around. Is this voice talking to me? Are you there God, it’s me Margaret? I mean Gabby? I am still very confused when the voice yells again, “yeah you.” I look around again. Yep, this voice is definitely talking to me. I try to find where the voice is coming from but alas, I cannot find a source. I also see that there are people around me who do not seem to have heard anything. Thoroughly shook, I scurry over to my dorm, leaving behind any hopes of making it to church.
When I get to my room, I reflect on the last few minutes. Could that have really been the voice of God? I surely hope not, because it was not very kind. The last thing I want is to be standing at the pearly gates of heaven trying to figure out how to get in and hear God yell, “what are you staring at?” Forget about hoping for eternal peace and happiness, I just want to reach heaven without being berated for being dumb. If I had bet on what would keep me out of heaven, my money would have been on my gluttony, sloth, and lust, but no, my downfall could be the fact that I am incapable of finding an entrance. I guess I better pray that Purgatory has a well marked, automatic door.