Letter to a Friend who got Left Behind
Dear friend and fellow human being,
This morning must have been a difficult one for you. For months now you have been working yourself up into a frenzy over the coming Rapture that was to happen yesterday, May 21, 2011. You took to the street with a sign that read, “the end is near.” You quit your job and frittered away your savings, thinking, “Why would I need income if I’m in heaven?” You sat with friends and family and cried, begging them to make the proper preparations so that they would not be left behind as they looked upon you like they were on the verge of calling the Department of Human Services to have you committed.
The day of reckoning came and you prayed like your life depended on it. You felt despair, then pity for those who mocked you. Then a certain resolve washed over you as 6 o’clock in the evening inevitably approached. “I’m ready, Lord,” you might have said. “Have pity on those poor souls that are left behind.” And then, nothing happened.
You thought it was a minor error in calculation at first. Maybe your fabulously wealthy spiritual advisor, Harold Camping, was off by a few minutes, or a few hours, you thought as day turned to night. After all, he did say in no uncertain terms, after getting it wrong a few years before, that this time was an absolute certainty–no doubt about it, May 21, 2011.
You went to sleep believing there existed the strong possibility you would awake in heaven.
You opened your eyes to see the same sun, shining through the same window in the same room in the same dwelling that you called home the day before.
Confusion set in, followed by dread, embarrassment, and a compelling feeling to stay in bed for eternity. Finally the bladder called and your mouth was parched. You pissed like a grown man, and went out into the kitchen, and everyone was there, stony silent and starring right at you as you walked into the room. Apparently everybody was left behind along with you, including the financially robust Harold Camping, you think.
Your wife and mother-in-law were sitting in the living room looking at you with a mixture of disgust and terror. One of your kids runs up to hug you and said, “Daddy, I’m glad you are still here. Momma says you need to get a job, pronto, or she’s going to leave your ass behind.”
You went outside to sit by yourself with a cup of coffee. As you did, my friend, I sincerely hope that you took that moment to explore your foibles and shortcomings, and embraced the emotions that came with it. It is true. You are an idiot. You believed the untenable. It proved not to be true. You are a silly ass with a limited capacity to know. You are at least marginally nuts. You my friend are a human. Acknowledge it. Get used to it.
That is the first step on the road to a more sane life. As soon as you can laugh about it all (that won’t happen today), you are on the road to salvation.
It’s only when you learn to love this life that you will be swept away in anything approaching eternal bliss. Your life is here, and as such needs to be nurtured here–not somewhere else.
Take heart. This is the first day of the rest of your life.
Stay well. Call me if you need a drink.
Yours truly,
C.H. McDermott
If you have vodka I’m there…so’s Earth as it happens…oops
Sorry Jihad 4D–just blended scotch.
That was a kind and generous letter, hope some of the poor souls who fell for this wicked con have someone close at hand to help, and perhaps show this post to them.
Hey! You know that guy too?
Yip, he’s my newest drinking buddy.