Lines from Vonnegut collide with Psalm 119 and my thoughts sling to the floor like cold mashed potatoes. I asked her what she thought Beauty was. We were talking about Beauty with a capital B. As she boiled down her answer to a purely good shine, I washed my throat with Dr. Pepper then whistled along to a beautiful song. We bantered back and forth about flowers and rust and babies and scars and sunsets. My knees felt like they had been kicked in. Would my pillow release me from the usual morning headlock? Could I twist its wrist? Would I even whimper in defiance?
Like an oak tree that drops its resurrection fruit, such furious words slide down the clock and break my nose with their reckless velocity. They brought live ammunition for their corroded cannons. Did they even know who they were aiming for? But they shot me in the head and in the heart and in my arms and legs. And how grateful I am for these wounds! If they had not buried alive those words meant for my heart, I might just be healthy and whole and comfortable today. What a terrible thought! But I praise God for such providential and dusty shrapnel that bled my soul dry and restarted my mind. Praise God for Scripture. Amen.
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1 comment:
ok...I get it I am dumb. What on earth is this about?
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