I wish you knew (by Veronica McDonald)

I wish you knew…
that God is like Christmas
all peace and joy
and goodwill towards men
and women and children and doctors and lawyers
and salesmen and telemarketers and tax collectors and
that prostitute you called trash the other day and
threw a bottle at and that bum that lives in the
doorframe of your dying dad’s derelict
apartment building and the drug addict who smashed
the glass of the fire escape window and
that policeman you called who was
pretty sympathetic on the phone but
ultimately did nothing even after you complained
on Twitter all day in a long thread about the
state of things around this country of ours and
God’s like, I got this, just take this gift of
Christ that I can implant into your soul forever, just
take it, and it’ll feel like the best part of a Hallmark
movie after that girl from the big city discovers the
true meaning of Christmas and every time you sink
into that deep dark pit of demon-hell abyss, that joy’ll
pull you out and show you a glimpse of how maybe
life could be if it were dipped in something more
substantial than two-year old Christmas chocolate. I’m
making all things new and all things good
my child, just come and rest in my arms
soft as your grandma’s but stronger than
Superman’s, what can man do to you? But
you’re like, whatever dude, I got this with my frail
flesh and failing brain and all the power
the internet allows me to my 3,000 cyber
friends who waggle their fingers in
agreement with my many on-point
opinions. And God’s like, OK, I’ll give you your
space, but like, call me sometime, sweetie. And
eat your veggies. And call your mom, too, she
loves you. She’s only ever wanted your unfailing love
(like me) ever since she held you crying and cooing and
pecking at her neck like a dove, after going through
the agony of birth pains, tired but calm and
melting in that baby-gaze that covered her
like grace.

Photo Credit: “The Virgin, Baby Jesus, and Saint John the Baptist” by William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1881 (Public Domain).