God speaks to me.
Well more like
God communicates with me
I am by no means a prophet
My job is not to spread the word
But just to hear the word
Listen to it, and abide by it.
When I don’t
And believe me I am no saint
When I don’t
God has a way to wake me up
Shake me up
Take heed and listen

I call them God bricks
A.K.A.
Paradigm shifts
Ah Ha moments
You know what I’m talking about
You know the kind
The ones that wallop you on the noggin
Sometimes having to be hit two, three, even four times

I can look behind me
And see all the paths I traveled
Wiggling left right, backwards
Then forwards again
Brick walls streaked with blood
From all the times I ran into them
Banged my head against them
God lays markers to the right way
Like Bright red Exit signs in a darkened hallway
Sometimes blinking fast and furiously
Many of which I did not see
I suppose
I was blinded by arrogance
It’s not that I thought God was wrong
I just that I knew I was right
I just wasn’t listening

Oh trust me,
God will let me spin my wheels
for awhile
Then either out of compassion
Or sheer boredom at watching my ceaseless banging
He’ll finally grab a chunk of the wall and chuck it at me
Causing me to step back
Rub my head
Take a look around
And go hmm. Maybe this isn’t working
Maybe I should go a different way.

I picture him at that moment
Throwing his hands up in the air
And saying “It’s about freaking time!”

Over time I’ve learned to spot many of the brick walls
And when I don’t
I trust God
To speak to me
To guide me
To smack me
To forgive me

Till my path leads me
To my last wall
With its pearly gates
Standing open
Waiting for me to walk through