We are tested many times everyday. 24/7/365 (366 in certain years).
Likely not in the manner of Job, Abraham or Donald Trump’s many wives but every test is indeed a challenge.
It arrives early: Do we rise from bed or succumb to the beckoning siren of more supine time?
If I say chose the latter and later detailed to my wife and later my boss that I simply selected the more spiritual option of the moment and didn’t make it to work, would that be honest but doubling down on malformed decisions? Politically incorrect in a proletariat/bourgeoisie paradigm or blasted stupid in lieu of having 20 years remaining on the mortgage?
Plus that later I ascended to a celestial establishment and rubbed elbows with various heavenly beings, partook of religious libations, heard angels crooning — quite the holistic religious experience — and then — my, my — it was 5:00 p.m.
Consider my options: dragging myself from horizontal slumbering, getting semi-presentable utilizing the never fail no smell-no foul clothing test, contributing to global warming by plying along the roadway for seemingly forever in our 10-year-old mini-van, cutting off a white-haired, older lady in order to nab the last parking spot (receiving a gnarled middle finger in response), plopping myself down at my desk and attaching the ball and chain for yet another uninspired eight hours.
This versus brushing up against the divine?
It is often said God works in mysterious ways. Who am I to argue?
— inspired by a poetry writing class prompt about tests