I’ve had a long week and haven’t blogged yet. The week was wonderful and frustrating. I had great times with friends and family in 4 different states. My laptop crashed and was down for 4 days. I’m behind on all my work so I thought I’d read some poetry and contemplate God. It seemed as useful as stressing. So I ran across one of my favorite pieces of poetry. You may have read it before. Read it again. If you’re in my church family, you heard Allen read it some weeks ago on a Sunday morning. Hear it again.
It’s humbling and silencing. It will remind you about…things.
It’s from John Shea in his book Mighty Stories, Dangerous Rituals.
There is a long-suffering lady
with thin hands
who stands on the corner of Delphia and Lawrence
and forgives you.
“You are forgiven,” she smiles.
The neighborhood is embarrassed.
It is sure that it has done nothing wrong
yet everyday, in a small voice
it is forgiven.
On the way to the Jewel Food Store
housewives pass her with hard looks
then whisper in the cereal section.
Stan Dampke asked her out right
what she was up to
and she forgave him.
A group who care about the neighborhood
agree that if she was old it would be harmless
or if she was religious it would be understandable
but as it is . . . they asked her to move on.
Like all things with eternal purposes
And she was informed upon.
On a most unforgiving day of snow and slush
while she was reconciling a reluctant passerby
the State People
whose business is sanity
persuaded her into a car.
She is gone.
We are reduced to forgetting.