Mister God, This is Anna – 4

So there you are then. How to make a model of Mister God, with a couple of paddle-wheels. No home should be without one. I sat on the wall and smoked a fag while I watched Mister God and me spinning paddle-wheels.

‘Ain’t it good, Fynn?’
‘Sure is good. We’d better take it to church on Sunday. It might give somebody some ideas.’
‘Oh no, we couldn’t do that. That would be bad.’
‘How’s that?’ I asked.
‘Well, it isn’t Mister God, but it’s a little bit like him.’
‘So what? If it works for you and it works for me, that’s fine. It might work for someone else.’
‘It works because me and you is full up.’
‘And what might that mean?’
‘Well, if you are full up, you can use anything to see Mister God. You can’t if you’re not full up.’
‘Why’s that? Give me a for instance.’
She never hesitated.
‘The cross! If you’re full up, you don’t need it ‘cos the cross is inside you. If you’re not full up, you have the cross outside you and then you make it a magic thing.’
She tugged at my arm and our eyes met. She spoke quietly and slowly: ‘If you’re not full up inside you, then you can make anything a magic thing, and then it becomes an outside bit of you.’
‘Is it that bad?’
She nodded. ‘If you do that, then you can’t do what Mister God wants you to do.’
‘Oh! What’s he want me to do then?’
‘Love everybody like you love yourself, and you’ve got to be full up with you to love yourself properly first.’
‘Like the most of a person is outside’, I said.
She smiled. ‘Fynn, there ain’t know different churches in heaven ‘cos everybody in heaven is inside themselves.’
Then she went on:
‘It’s the outside bits that make all the different churches and synagogues and temples and things like that. Fynn, Mister God said “I am”, and that’s what he wants us all to say – that’s the hard bit.
My head went up and down in bewildered agreement.

‘”I am”… that’s the hard bit.’ ‘I am.’ Really get around to saying that and you’re home, really mean it and you’re full up, you’re all inside. You don’t have to want things outside you to fill up the gaps inside you. You don’t leave bits of you hanging around on objects in shop-windows, in catalogues or on advertising hoardings. Wherever you go you take your whole self with you, you don’t leave bits lying around to get stamped on, you’re all of a piece, you’re what Mister God wants you to be. An ‘I am’, like he is. Hell’s bells! All the time I had thought that going to church was in order to look for God, for praising him. It didn’t dawn on me what Mister God was doing. All this time he had been working overtime trying to knock a bit of sense into my noddle, trying to turn an ‘It is’ into an ‘I am’. I got the message. That was the Sunday I really signed on.

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