“Oh, God,” he whispered, “How can this be? After all she and I have been through, after all our fights, after all our years together . . . How can You let it come to this?”
He waited for a response.
Nothing to break the silence except the softening hum of the engine as he eased off the gas, decelerating behind a tanker he was rapidly approaching. He sniffed hard and wiped his nose with his sleeve.
“Why now? Why can't it be me? Why does it have to be her? Why does it have to be anyone? You're all powerful, can't You save her?”
He'd never been a praying man, but the worst-case scenarios always brought him to prayerful interrogation of God, sometimes to His knees. He never once heard a response. But as long as He believed in a God that was infinitely powerful to intervene, he had someone to blame.
“God? Are you there? Just let me . . . Let me hear Your voice, just this once. Please . . . I need You more than ever right now.”
The downshift and sequential rev of the engine was nearly deafening inside the stuffy cabin as he sped around the tractor.
“God, if You're all powerful and omniscient, then You can see her. Why won't you save her life?”
The grid of buildings grew visibly closer through the hazy evening sky, distorted by wet eyes. Many of the towers had already begun to glow, the tallest ones emitting a rotating beam of light from their peaks. They caught his attention momentarily. He'd soon be inside one of them, by his wife's bedside.
Can't see the forest for the trees, he thought.