God Knows

When I was younger, the imminent and ongoing arguments with my older brother usually went something like this:

Jess: “Mom, he punched me!”

Clint: “No, I didn’t!”

Jess: “Yes, he did!”

Clint: “No, I didn’t!

repeat … repeat …

Jess: “Whatever. God knows.”

“God knows” was literally the only way I, in my young mind, could bring closure to an argument that could never otherwise be won – either because there was no evidence on my side, or because the other side was willing to fight until the bitter end to defend himself. Lately I’ve been finding myself reverting to that phrase a lot, even in my much older adult life.

I don’t care if it’s Casey Anthony, Ratko Mladic (really? you kill thousands of people and it’s inhumane that you can’t wear a hat during your trial?), the guy I found abusing his kid in our alley, or my low-rent neighbor trashing our laundry room – there are so many things that amazingly upsetting, and yet completely out of my control.

This is dedicated to all of the people out there doing sucky things. No, I can’t change it. But you can count on this: God knows.


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