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The phone rang the other day. It was "Linda-Dude," my friend from Canada who starts many of her sentences with the word "dude" as in "Dude, isn't God awesome?"

Linda-Dude's speech is liberally sprinkled with phrases like "What a trip!" "Decent!" or "What a rip!" Her perceptions of God are unique, to say the least. She has intrigued me since I met her in Southern California at a Huntington Beach surfing contest or perhaps it was at the Wednesday Surf Fellowship at Maranatha! Surfboards on the Coast Highway, I can't remember.

Maybe it was her long paisley skirt, peasant blouse and "Kierkegaard" button that made me notice her. Or the "Don't honk if you love Jesus" bumper sticker on her car. ("It's amazing how many people love Jesus," she explained.)

I even speak in Linda lingo when I talk to her. She tends to have some of the most interesting insights into religion - OK, God - and when I need a fresh look at God, I give her a ring.

But this time, she called me.

"Patrick, dude, how's it goin'?" she asked. "I just felt I should call you."

I've learned to immediately be up front with her. She knows all of my duck-and-cover methods anyway, so what's the point of evasion? If I say, "Oh, OK. Things are going well," she says, "Depressed, huh?" Or if I say, "Just fine," she says, "Can't figure things out, eh?" And if I don't say anything, there will be this three-second silence and then she'll say, "Dude, I know what you mean."

That's Linda-Dude. She once told me she makes her life simpler by bypassing everything people say until they're "real" with her.

"People are surprised when someone REALLY wants to know how they are today," she'd said. "What a trip, eh?"

So when she called, I slipped into Linda lingo and said, "Hey, I'm cool." Then, when there was silence, I lamely added, "Honest."

"Dude, you are such a trip," she laughed. "You've never been good at being phony. It's your voice. So, what's the problem?"

Note to self: Work on voice inflections.

I sighed. "Nothing really," and then negating what I'd just said, added, "it's just that it seems when I try to get a point across, people don't interpret it the right way. They don't get it."

"Why do you want them to 'get it' anyway?" she asked.

"Well, for one thing, I don't mind getting boiled in oil for something I meant. I don't particularly like it when someone's gotten it wrong and turns the heat up."

"What a rip," she said.

"Totally," I said, completely annoyed at the thought. "It bugs the beejeebers out of me."

"What's a beejeeber?" she laughed. "Is that a Texas thing?" I laughed too.

"I don't know," I said. "It's what comes before a cee-jeeber, I guess."

We laughed together. There was a pause. She'd done it again. For some reason, I felt better. "How do you do that?" I asked.

"Laughter is a spiritual weapon," Linda-Dude from Canada said. "Decent, eh?"

In the space of a few seconds, the air had gotten lighter. Now I could listen.

"OK, so what's my problem?" I asked, sighing again.

"I don't know. Why do you want people to understand you?" she asked.

"Isn't that the point of discourse?" I asked.

"Dude. A fool delights in revealing his own mind, not understanding," she said.

There was silence as I took another look at "conversation."

"Doesn't it matter what I think, though?"

"No." she said. "It only matters what they think."

I dimly recalled that I'd been down this path with her before.

"OK," I finally said. "Why is that again?"

"People have to live it out, whatever it is, to see what they need to do next. They'll ask when they're ready."

"You mean there's no teacher like experience."

"Right on," she said.

"And I'm not that teacher," I added.

"Bummer, eh?"

"And experience takes time," I mused, "and lots of patience while they take it."

"Hmmmm," she said.

"And you can't hurry their process."

"The cake's in the oven till it's done," she said.

"And just love people where they're at, even if they're, like, intransigent, I mean, um ...'" I'd slipped out of Linda lingo and wasn't sure she'd relate. I should have known better.

"You mean vituperative, don't you?" she said. "Isn't that what you're getting at? You don't like that? It hurts?"

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled.

"Decent."

"So, let them figure it out themselves," I said, gaining momentum.

"What a trip."

"And don't worry that they misunderstand, even it's uncomfortable."

"I'm glad we had this talk," she said laughing again.

"Hey, but I did all the talking," I laughed, employing the "weapon."

"See, dude," she said. "That's it. It matters what you think, not me. What a trip, eh?"