Promises, promises

Faith is a funny thing. And by funny, I mean funny ha-ha. I have faith that my bank won’t take my money and run and that my landlord is up to date on his mortgage payments of this God forsaken place.

I could pour all my goodwill in a cup and drink it every day for breakfast, but, really, it could still give me the stomach flu.

But, they promised.

They promised not to steal my money and not make me a squatter in my apartment. And because they promised, I have faith in them.

However, when I try to invert the equation, it doesn’t really work so well.

For instance, I promised Buddha’s lotus flower not to spend anymore money this week. Do you suppose it will have faith in me? At least enough to grant me my wish for a speedy approval for my new apartment? I also promised Saint Valentine not to eat any chocolate until Sunday, but I’m not sure he will hold the decision-makers at arrow point for me. Wait does Saint Valentine carry a bow and arrow? I think I just promised the wrong deity again.

I know what you’re thinking: “Why don’t you promise God that you will not watch anymore questionable late night movies on Showtime for the rest of lent in return for whatever it is you really want?”

Well, first, making a promise to the big G is ridiculous. Do you think he could have faith in my promises? Isn’t he supposed to be all-knowing? If I aim a little lower, I am pretty sure I’ll get better results.  And B., who told you I watch questionable movies?

I promise you I don’t.

Published by Mari

I was born with a widow's peak and a thick accent. I majored in English as a second language. I work ( and travel ( and sometimes do both.

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