“I hate you!”

She slammed the door and stomped down the steps and through the yard.

Where can I go to get away from your Spirit?

He heard the gate creak open (he told her he’d spray some WD-40 on it weeks ago)

then slam shut again with a violence that shook the whole chain-link fence.

Where can I run to get away from you?

The straps on her purse fell from her shoulder to her forearm,

where she then yanked it open and rummaged, looking for car keys.

They weren’t in the awkward little side pocket, or under her wallet.

“They had better be in here,” she thought. “I’m not going back in that house again, tonight.”

Just then, a light blinked on and she remembered

that her husband put a key box under her bumper

after she locked herself out for the fourth time, about a month ago.

At least he did something right, once.

She flung herself down on her hands and knees,

groped around under her bumper,

and discovered the box.

She had her key,

and was up again.

After the twist of that key, the car door jerked open and the woman flopped in.

She was limp with perspiration and tears, but still mad as hell.

She turned the ignition, started the car and immediately, the Backstreet Boys began singing

As Long as You Love Me at her. It was their song.

If I go up to heaven, you are there.

Tires squealed, and he was left in silence.

He knew it was coming and tried to stop it, but it hadn’t been enough.

If I make my bed in hell, you are there.

His picture was on her dashboard,

his jeans in the back seat,

the freaking car even smelled like him.

He was too good to walk out on, but he really did it this time.

She would have to go back after she cooled down,

and there would be tears and more yelling.

Reconciliation, too.

★                         ★                         ★

You can’t slam the door and walk out on an omnipresent God.

He’s everywhere you’re going to be.

His love will pursue to to the ends of the earth,

regardless of how you treat him.