On Leap Day I went to the Village Inn in Taylorsville, seeking a free slice of pie and a glimpse of God. Instead, I met Donna Gunn. She was dressed in a Goofy costume with three gold medals around her neck, greeting guests and happy to talk about her life. Donna hails from Louisiana, where at 13 she began competing in Special Olympics. Some years later she came to Utah because she was determined to make it on her own. She tells of sleeping on a bare mattress and eating nothing but chicken noodle soup for days on end. Things improved; in 2009 Donna competed in the World Winter Games. She now plays in a band and volunteers for several groups for people with disabilities. "I want to show off what we people with disabilities can do, not what we can’t do," she said, adding that Special Olympics is "about the best thing that people like us can have, because if it wasn’t around we would be living back in institutions and being caged up again." Donna was at Village Inn that night because the restaurant was hosting a Special Olympics fundraiser, sponsored by Utah Knights of Columbus, who have raised more than $7,000 for the cause this year alone. Since Special Olympics formed in 1968, the Knights "have been doing magnificent work, helping raise money and awareness for people with disabilities," Donna said. Donna’s story is the kind that journalists salivate over, and the generosity of those who braved the winter weather to contribute to Special Olympics is worth publicizing, but what with one thing or another, I didn’t get what I wanted that night, neither pie nor God. No pie was my fault. As for God – well, I probably would have ignored him even if I had seen him. Here’s why: The day before, work was awful, and unfortunately my temper got the best of me. Before going home I sought comfort from "The Little Black Book, Six-minute meditations on the Sunday Gospels of Lent." The Feb. 28 entry reads in part, "Like Jesus, I am sent to breathe this Spirit upon the world in order to change it for the better. Keep in mind, there are other options. I can breathe hatred into the world…." I threw the book down. When I asked God last week to reveal himself, I expected at best to see him "through a darkened glass." I didn’t intend for him to take an immediate interest in my everyday life. I’m just not ready for an intimate friendship with such an immense being! I was calmer by the time I got home. I told myself that those meditations are so broad they could apply almost any time, and I was just imagining any heavenly input. Then, before going to Village Inn Wednesday, I accidentally opened the book to Thursday’s entry, which read, "I may be tempted to do things my way … to leave God out." You know what? This whole God thing is downright scary. One of my coworkers said she’d be flattered if God spoke directly to her. Well, she can have him. He’s too omnipotent for me. I want him back where he was before: safely in the sacristy, in the Bible, in heaven. He’s just too BIG to sit right next to me. I’m going back to where I was, too, to stories like Donna’s. Those mysteries I can comprehend. Maybe then I can eat my pie in peace. But first I have to get rid of the voice that keeps telling me, "Don’t let fear keep us apart."
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