The tears finally came when I put away my dishes
Two days after Memphis
Standing in the kitchen, sobbing with a dish towel
Feeling Ave Marias and Sola Scriptura and peace doves and incense
and all of the ways I've entered into worship
I have come home.
Feeling myself, once one boat on a vast ocean
suddenly surrounded by an armada
suddenly aware that I was never really alone
Standing in the kitchen, one woman in one city
suddenly a member of a family of nomads
of wanderers whose only passion is Jesus
and Him crucified
who will break down all barriers to see Him glorified
who will threaten their own security
so that He alone will be honored
who will not stop until we emerge into His light
I feel all the painful past endings in this new beginning
I feel the wounds exposed to light
I feel the awful ache of hope, of belonging
of love for people I barely know
but who I recognize as long lost relations
I have thought I was home before.
I have been wrong.
I am afraid.
But I prayed Night Prayer with a female Presbyterian minister
I talked about ptsd with an ex-nun Lutheran minister
I talked Reformed theology with a pastor to artists
and I, a woman in a tube top and clingy jeans,
led a congregation in the Our Father while everyone held hands
in His people
Don't forget to hope
2 days ago