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An Excerpt from “Mister God, This is Anna”

By Fynn

“Please, please, Mister God, teach me how to ask real questions. Oh please, Mister God, help me to ask real questions.”


“Tich,” I said, “what were you asking God about real questions for?”.

“Ah, it’s just sad, that’s all.” “What’s sad?”

“People is.”

“I see. What’s sad about people?”

“People ought to get more wise when they grow older. Bossy and Patch do, but people don’t.”

“Don’t you think so?” I asked.

“No. People’s boxes get littler and littler.”

“Boxes? I don’t understand that.”

“Questions are in boxes”, she explained, “and the answers they get only fit the size of the box.”

“That’s difficult; go on a bit.”

“It’s hard to say. It’s like — it’s like the answers are the same size as the box. It’s like them dimensions.”

“Oh?”

“If you ask a question in two dimensions, then the answer is in two dimensions too. It’s like a box. You can’t get out.”

“I think I see what you mean.”

“The questions get to the edge and then stop. It’s like a prison.”

“I expect we’re all in some sort of prison.”

She shook her head. “No, Mister God wouldn’t do that.”

“I suppose not. What’s the answer then?”

“Let Mister God be. He lets us be.”

“Don’t we?”

“No. We put Mister God into little boxes.”

“Surely we don’t do that?”

“Yes, all the time. Because we don’t really love him. We got to let Mister God be free. That’s what love is.”

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