Wonderful Life.

"You have two minutes! TWO MINUTES!"

My fingers are racing across the keyboard, pressing letters, creating words and paragraphs off of a tape he had just finished dictating. I press print, grab it off the printer and hand it to him for review. As I hand it to him, I swing around and grab a FedEx slip out of my forms tray and fill it out. He hands the document back to me with final revisions noted.

"You now have one minute and thirty seconds!" His fingers are tapping on my desk, his eyes turned toward the clock on the wall, counting down the time. I finish the changes and print the document on letterhead for his signature, handing it back to him. I run to the copy machine, make a copy, slip it in the envelope, run out the door and hand it to the FedEx guy just as he unlocks the metal box that has become the reason for my existence.

That was six and a half years ago. There were nights that I was at work until one thirty in the morning. The documents were so important, so urgent, so earth changing. Or so he believed.

A few months after that, the company closed. It didn't get the financing it needed for the IPO the partners wanted. All the documents and paperwork created by my stampeding fingers on a keyboard were boxed up for storage. Put away forever.

I moved on to another boss who was just like him. The importance, the urgency, the stress. That boss had his contract bought out by the parent company and six months ago, I was down in the storage room looking at all the boxes and boxes of paperwork we created, trying to figure out where they should go. The smell of the room tingled my senses as I looked around in this building that is, for the most part vacant, yet at one time hosted so many people you could hardly hear yourself on the phone.

Last night, me and my husband went to the dinner theater and saw "It's a Wonderful Life" acted out on stage. The story took us through the life of George, how he so badly wanted to travel, see the world, make a difference. Everyday, he faced what he seemed to believe was a life of disappointments, unachieved dreams. When, really, he was failing to see the difference he made in the lives of those around him every single day. The dreams he helped his neighbors achieve. How his relationships with the people he loved and cared about mattered. He wished that he had never been born without taking into account that if he had never been born, his brother wouldn't have lived past the age of 8 (George had pushed his brother out of way of a truck). That countless lives would have never been improved just for their knowing him and he them.

Life isn't about boxes, FedEx deadlines or urgent documents. It's about the moments we spend IN the moment. It's about taking time to laugh, to enjoy drawing breath and to hold close the ones you love. Just like those boxes down in the storeroom, when we're gone our stuff will just go in boxes.

It's the memories in the hearts of those who care about us that will live on.

Religious Superficiality. Core Beliefs Make the Cut.

Having married a man who is a different religion than I am, I've been facing the question of how, exactly, does one become a Christian. I mean, he's always said he's a Christian. Indeed, there are times when he has more faith in God than I do. He is oftentimes giving me encouragement to leave things in God's hands. The hands that made the universe, they're big enough to hold my small, insignificant worries and problems.

But, back to the "how do you" question. I've always been told that to become a Christian, one needs to say the "Sinner's Prayer." Confess to God with a genuine heart that I'm a sinner, that I know he sent his son to die for my sins, for all of our sins, and to invite him into my heart, my life, as my King. Somewhere along the way, I also learned that one must also believe in the trinity, the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit. Those are the way to salvation.

So, I explore the ideas of Catholocism, as that is my husband's religion. I understand that Catholics believe in the Patron Saints, confessionals and pergatory. Those ideas seem a little strange to me but that's because it wasn't taught to me as I grew up. But, does their differing beliefs disqualify them as Christians?

Pergatory or no pergatory? I believe once we choose God we will be in Heaven, no pergatory detour. Further good works (or fruit) that we do will earn us crowns (not admission to Heaven), which we will ultimately give back to God in praise. Asking Saints and Priests to intercede on our behalf with the Heavenly Father? Well, as I understand it, it's kind of like being accountable to someone -- like (in simplified terms) when one is trying to lose weight they report in to their Weight Watcher's group. Sometimes it keeps us on track easier if we have a routine check up. Most Catholics I know also pray directly to the Father in their regular lives.

I don't mean to be disrespectful but, from a viewpoint of never having attending Catholic Mass until recently, mostly, what I see is that Catholics are like Christians only they have a bad case of OCD. It's all about routine and tradition, standing and kneeling, saying the roted words. What? You do have to admit that it is kind of funny if that's not what you're used to seeing. It's kind of like going to a revival where everyone is hooting and hollering about things in an incomprehensible language. Doesn't make it wrong, just makes it different. But, really, isn't everything just a little complex on both sides?

Isn't being a Christian as simple as saying to God "I will"? That's what the Bible says in Revelation 22:17, "And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." Whosoever will. I will.

Kind of reminds me of a wedding vow. In my opinion, being a Christian is a choice, not a fancy prayer. Nor do I think there is the possibility of "accidentally becoming a Christian." It can't happen accidentally, it has to be a conscious choice. Just like getting married, it has to be a conscious choice. Usually, you don't just accidentally find yourself up at the altar marrying someone. Peer pressure be damned (gasp!), the choice has to come from within you.

The one thing that Jesus asked Peter was, "Do you love me?" Three times he asked Peter that. Isn't that what God wants from us, from his children? Isn't that why he created us? Could it be so simple? Love. We vow to love Him. We vow to put him first. We vow to include him in our life. Just like we do when we marry someone.

Accepting Him into our hearts and our lives -- bah, I don't know what that really means. Isn't that just silly Christian-speak that people have said because they don't know how else to say it? They've heard it so many times it must be right? Flipping over to Catholocism, pergatory, saints, praying for lost loves ones -- do I believe all that is necessary? Nah. I don't believe we need intercession from saints or priests, only from Jesus when he died on the cross. Nor do I believe we can lose our salvation once we make our choice. Once a person has made the choice to love God, I think God takes us into his capable hands and holds onto us. How could we possibly fall out of God's hands, hands that built the universe, once we choose to ask God to hold us?

Religions? I don't know about religions. Nor do I profess to understand everything about what will happen in the afterlife, such as what the book of Revelation discusses. Sometimes, beyond knowing that I'll be in Heaven with God after I die, I don't even really care. I'm not a professorial type, sorry to disappoint. All the detail listed in the Bible about judgments and what not, it just seems over my head. Does that make me bad? Ohhh, I can hear preachers everywhere rustling their Bibles. "You're not being a good witness, you need to be THIRSTY to know all you can about the afterlife." Bah. They're probably right. It's just that maybe I prefer to do it the lazy way, I follow the rules and avoid the pain. Kind of like when I go rollerblading, I put knee pads on my knees to avoid having scraped knees should I fall. Since I won't have scraped knees, I don't need to carry antibiotics in my pockets.

What I know for sure is that I love Jesus. So does my husband. I believe that we have both, in our own ways, chosen to have God first in our lives. Maybe he hasn't said the "Sinner's Prayer" like I did when I was six years old, I really don't know. But is there somewhere in the Bible where the Sinner's Prayer is mandatory? Doesn't God look to the motivations of our hearts for answers?

Has everyone made the process more complicated than it is? Have the piles of religions made finding Jesus too hard? Is God really that legalistic?

Don't we just have to say, "I will, Lord." And mean it?