God, Me, and the Tale of the Serpent.

Well, now properly adjusted, perhaps I can finally share a bit. One day, and it wasn't long ago, I thought God hated me, for perhaps I was everything they said about me. And as the saying goes: a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth.

They said I served the devil and was estranged from God. But ah, was it just because I was so different? Since childhood, I liked things that weren't common. Fairy tales? Never. I preferred ghost stories, haunted souls, and demons. Hero movies, epic adventures? No, no, give me "The Exorcist" instead. Horror brought me calm, but that didn’t mean my master was the devil. Yet among these social discordances, I was always the listening friend, and in dark moments, it was I who stood by. Thus, when the skies darkened, when pain and misfortune came, those who called me evil were the ones who sought me.

But I conversed much with God. And yes, I was merely different. God always remained silent, never answering me. In a way, this made me feel rejected, unwelcome, a persona non grata to the Divine. Perhaps God was my listener while I heard the prayers of my brothers and His children.

But He remained silent all this time. Sometimes, I grew very angry at His silence and even blasphemed. Ah, they all said I was going to hell anyway, what difference did it make? They called me evil, wicked, and other things. But objectively analyzing my life, I never harmed anyone.

Then that rainy morning came, and I have a strange habit, like everything in my life, of walking at dawn. I like to sleep early and take long walks in the early hours. The walks help align my neurotransmitters, bringing me pleasure, reducing anxiety, and allowing me to see the day that is about to be born.

It was a winter dawn; I dressed warmly. I prepared my Amstaff dog to accompany me and ward off undesirable nocturnal figures, like drug-addicted troublemakers. And then we left home. I live on a hilltop, and in my walks, I usually go to the other side of town, to the airport, and then return.

As we passed through the center, I saw several homeless people lying on the sidewalks, using whatever blankets and rags they had to cover themselves. An almost ethereal indignation coursed through my body—God seemed to have ignored more people than just me.

What had these poor wretches done to deserve this?

I demanded an answer from God in a way I could understand.

I, the evil one, the wicked, the devil’s servant, have a contradictory habit of helping people. I once had online support groups for people with mental disorders, where I spent sleepless nights trying to remove suicidal motivations, explaining that everything is transient, including pain, or at least offering a kind word to souls in need of venting.

At that time, I wasn’t financially well-off. But when I managed to build my business and start my small empire, I had no time left to help. I began my in-person work in 2012 at an old folks' home, then in 2015, I worked with the rehabilitation of drug addicts.

When I could no longer visit these places, I met a pastor who had excellent ideas and a dream: to shelter the homeless, drug addicts, and others rejected by society. As he had no resources and I now did, I volunteered to fund his dream. I became the project's benefactor.

Returning to my walk with my dog.

We reached the airport, and my indignation and discontent only grew as I saw these poor souls in the open. Finally, I said: God, if you exist, I need you to answer me.

We reached the airport and turned back.

As I was about to enter my street, I saw a homeless man crying desperately. It was about 6:30 in the morning, and he was crying a lot.

My soft heart and I decided to stop and ask why he was so sorrowful. I asked the man:

What happened to you? Drugs? Alcohol?

And the man looked at me with a happy expression and said:

Can I pet your dog?

Naturally, I let him, and I asked him to tell me his life story. Ah, just a poor devil; everything he had tried in life had failed, and he had been abandoned by his family. My indignation with the silent God grew.

Then I returned home, sat in my chair, lit a cigarette, and on impulse, thought: I’ll fix this man's life.

I went back and told him that today was his lucky day and that I would organize his life. We found a cheap studio apartment for him to live in and get off the streets, and through some contacts, I got him a job.

I helped him for three or four months until he stabilized and could continue his life normally.

Time passed...

And one day, the pastor of the place I was supporting told me that one of the residents had had a psychotic break, tried to attack the pastor, and then attempted suicide.

I was surprised to learn who it was; I knew this resident, a sweet and calm person. The pastor, an elderly man, was scared and called an ambulance to save the suicidal man. He was saved.

I remember well; it was a Sunday, 9 p.m. on a cold day. The pastor called me for help because he could no longer keep this resident there. Being an elderly man, he feared the resident might have another episode and cause him harm.

We were at the hospital. The troubled man and I.

What was I to do? I lived with my mother and couldn't bring this friend home, putting my family at risk, but I couldn't leave him on the street either. The friend said he would go back to his hometown the next day. Then it occurred to me. I’ll call the homeless man I helped and ask him to let this friend stay the night so he could leave the next day.

My disappointment was great when, upon asking for help, the former homeless man gave me at least five excuses why he couldn't help. He had become arrogant and had no desire to help someone as I had helped him.

Well, I couldn’t do much for my friend who had the breakdown. He slept at the bus station and left for his town the next day.

So it went.

A few months later, I passed a crossing in my small town and imagine my surprise to see the former homeless man back on the streets.

And I saw that God had answered me.

Some people, given much, would do little.

God never stopped answering me; I just didn't know how to interpret it.