Grambo Is Dead, Part V

I was in high school at the time, and I was taking a Bible class, probably as a sophomore or junior. We were taught by a Dutch Reformed Protestant viewpoint, and told that God fulfilled His will everyday, and that this was our fate, inescapable. One student, or perhaps it was me, asked, "Why then do we pray if it won't make a difference?"

My Bible teacher, Dr. Trout, replied because God loves hearing from His believers.

But if you listen carefully, you can concede that nothing in life matters--you are predestined to go to hell, or heaven, depending on some weird Godly luck, and then your death is written in some big book in the sky, you can't access it, you can't read it, but God knows. He allows the sinner to wallow in sin. He punishes according to some Master Plan, and often people don't get what they deserve, although this fact of life appalls us, and causes us to lay blame on anyone in our path.

I wrote a short essay during Creative Writing class on Monday about my grandmother, and I described my uncle as a "coward." To me, he is. He could have visited his mother more often, but he was unable to reach closure with her, to mend that relationship, and he is suffering now because of it, although I aptly warned him to settle things months ago. He lacked the emotional maturity. I'm being harsh and judgmental, but I feel that I am right. He contributed to their conflict, although I've never heard him admit such. And if I'm being honest, there were times when my grandmother and I shared harsh words, especially this past year. My grandmother would ask me, "Are you mad at me?" Not remembering our last conversation or even what she said. I, too, lacked the fortitude to deal with her on a daily basis. Her mood swings disrupted my entire emotional balance. I told my mother that unless something changed while Grandma visited, that I was going to move out, and live in County housing like my case manager wanted. Would I have done a much better job than my uncle? Probably not.