Oh, my God

I remember the first time I said, “Oh, my God.”

It was the spring of seventh grade. My friend, Jessica Mensah had reached her breaking point with the torturous junior high boys on our school bus and shouted, “Oh, my God!”

She immediately gasped, covering her mouth. She fell to her knees, praying for forgiveness, praying for the Lord to have mercy on her soul.

I thought about those three letters for days. I couldn’t get them off my mind. G-O-D. Not Go-SH, Go-D. I kept wondering what these letters would sound like coming from my own lips. After weeks of tempting opportunities, I decided to find out. This was the time. 

My parents were out back on the patio, so the coast was clear. I went into my room and shut the door. For extra security, I shut my blinds. (As if that would help keep the thunderous sound of my whispers from escaping.)

I whispered slowly and carefully, ”Oh… my… God….” 

D-D-D-D-D. 

That “D” echoed from the vaulted ceiling in my purple room and pierced me right through the heart. I felt my body sinking straight to the depths of hell. I begged and pleaded for Jesus to spare my wicked, sinful soul. Did I really deserve the fiery pits of eternal damnation for uttering three simple letters??

After all, I was only saying “dog” backwards…