Waiting for a Miracle
Waiting to receive the promised blessing (“Go outside and play and I’ll take you to the zoo”), dutiful and penitent (locked out, like an animal in the yard), I waited for my reward. *You* know, but I did not, there was no zoo. There never was a zoo, but I believed him. Why would a father lie?
“God loves you like a father” met with deep skepticism and suspicion. I surely didn’t need more of that, yet I was curious. Curiosity may have killed many a cat but it kept me living (and still does). Wanting to know why, wanting to know anything helped me press forward to the truth, until the day I decided I no longer cared. No question was worth pursuing and no answer was ever sensible enough. Why bother asking?
It’s a sad and lonely way to live, not caring. Unmerciful, really. The nimble mind, having no task, no enjoyable or productive work, grows irritable and restless. Eventually, it naps a lot, almost impossible to rouse. And the soul, the dear sweet jewel (the Knowing Place), trapped in the body’s density, understands it can’t communicate and quietly turns the lights out. Waiting for a glimmer, a flicker, a wonderment to pass through. Waiting for a sign, a promise, a gift. Or, by the Grace of a Great God (who has also been waiting), a miracle.
LBM 10/20/2019
