Meet My Maker

So… I had a Stent put into my heart this past Monday and I thought about dying.


I worry that my heart is a time bomb.

I am a hypochondriac and this makes it even worse.

But it got me thinking….

I’m also a believer in the whole “God” thing.

What if something had happened and God punched my ticket?

What if I had died in my sleep or under sedation?

Would I be good to go?

Would my garments be as white as snow?

Or would the blood of the lamb be on my hands, my lips or in my eyes?

How do I stand as a man?


How do I see myself; the one person that really “knows” me?

What will I be the most ashamed about when my time comes?


I’ve never believed in last breath absolution or forgiveness of sin.

The way I look at it….

We’ve had a life, we’ve had time, we’ve been aware that there will always be a day when our account has come due.

We all knew better.

You can’t just say you’re sorry.

You have to shun it once you’ve said it..

You got to walk the walk.

Acta non verba….

Words are cheap.


Golden rule #2: “Do as I say, not as I do”
subsection 2a-321:” Practice what you preach”

For arguments sake let’s say that God does not exist but, we still have morals, freewill and accountability to ourselves and our honor, our reputation.

When your time has come, are you satisfied with your life?

I’m sure you’d have liked to accomplish more, climbed that mountain or crossed that desert.

That’s normal, I suppose. As humans we are never quite happy with what we have, and that’s okay.

We’d like just a tad more….

But, the measure of a person is if their last thought is:
1) “Crap. God’s gonna be pissed when he see’s me”
2) “I got away with it”
3) “I gave them bogus directions to my money cache”
4) “They’ll never find the TV remote”
5) “I should have helped that homeless guy, that once”
6) “I should have done more. I should have given more of my time.”
7) “I wish I’d never learned how to lie”


Why should I care about other people that mean absolutely nothing to me in my scheme of things?


Why should I bother with things that have nothing to do with me?

Because, I am a ripple.

I am an earthquake.

I am a tsunami.

Or, am I a butterfly that is afraid to fly because I know what havoc I may cause with the flutter of my wings?

I just couldn’t take that chance.

Nothing I could do would matter,anyhow.

Who am I to change the world?

“Get back in line and wait your turn” says life.

Memores acti prudentes futuri….



I have been poisoned by my own kind.

I am a toadstool that requires tainted earth.

Who taught me to hate in the first place?

I hate them.

Did I come with it already installed?

I wonder what it was like before hate?

I wish I could remember that far back.

That’s the sad part, ain’t it?

I can’t remember peace.

What should I tell God?

That it wasn’t my fault?

Once you dip your toe in it….well, y’all know what happens.


That’s the really, really sad part….

Ain’t it?

Y’all know, too….

Hate soaks in.

It gets in your blood.

It needs blood to survive.


There’s plenty of blood to go around.

Nigger blood, Mexican blood, Chink blood; pure, wholesome uncontaminated white blood….

You know what…. I just thought of something….


If you mix all of the “Nigger blood, Mexican blood, Chink blood; pure, wholesome uncontaminated white blood….” in a big bowl…?

You know something?

It’s still red….

I couldn’t tell the difference.

Could you?

How can I explain to God that my hate is not my fault?

How can I, in all consciousness, look God in the eye and say “I never had a choice, I was taught that way”

You cannot lie to God.

You cannot lie to yourself.

But, we still try.

It’d be sad if it wasn’t so stupid.


I’m lying here thinking about mortality because I had a stent put in my heart.

Not a big procedure really, kinda routine, as far as Heart stuff goes.

But, it scared me, and when I get scared like that I think about my soul.

So, thanks for listening to me babble.

I wouldn’t worry about dying so much if I lived more….

I know about God.

I am a giver of light, a taker of trust.

I know, no better.

Woulduh, shoulduh, coulduh….

I ain’t telling God that….

“You didn’t give me enough time to do more ”

That’s the ticket….


Ab imo pectore….

El Corazon….

De mon cœur au vôtre…

Chiao Mein.

4 thoughts on “Meet My Maker”

  1. And right so – we prepare for that one day throughout our lives and that red blood predisposes us to everything God can stand for we are His creation…if we come close to living as decent people (warts included) then meeting the maker will come with a prologue: I have lived a good life. Glad to know you’re on the mend Trey 🙂

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s