I miss the way you'd sigh yourself to sleep

Maybe its corny to admit that the death of a loved one brings you closer to God. Or not corny. But something like that.
But it's kind of true.

Of course I think of predestination. Everyone around me talks about it constantly. But I just settle myself out to think, "Rachel, whatever happens, God already knew it was going to happen, and people did pick it for themselves."
What the heck am I saying.
I think that all this happened at the right time, and for the right reasons, as screwed up as it is.
My grandmother died after I'd been in school for just two weeks. I drove 40 sleepless hours in 5 days. I became ill. I just happened to be taking a course that the main text happens to be the Bible, but taught by a Jew. A smart Jew who knows Hebrew and can chant Song of Songs by heart. She is crazy and wonderful, even though I don't agree with half of what she says. But this class has taught me to appreciate the Old testament.
And
what
I see
is
a God who was desperately in love with a people
(for thousands of years)
that constantly turned their back on him
in the height of his love and abundance for them.
An adulterous nation wearing Prada, sleeping with Chuck Bass, and texting on an iPhone.
And he loved them so painfully that he sent a son to die for their sloppy pitiful excuse of a thing called Loyalty.
And they turned their head and pretended like it wasn't all over CNN and in the New York Times and on Google news.
Gritting their teeth, they rejected a Messiah, long awaited.

Or what I'm trying to think is that the Old Testament means more to me now. And this strange predestination season has a lot of cold dark roads left, but
I've got chicken noodle soup and
crisp thunder storms.