broken

You were out with your dog on this first really warm day. Several houses down, I was walking to my car, on my way home. When someone's bigger dog came bounding across the street, your little dog was not amused, and neither were you. She hollered at him to come back, came after him with a leash, but how you shouted, how furiously you shouted. 


 You cursed her  for the sake of a little dog. If you thought of the words, would you still say them? I could see in her movements, she was apologizing, explaining he didn't mean any harm, but you backed away, stalked off, cradling your unhurt pet.  

I was angry at first, angry at the injustice, angry at your anger - though I only saw it from afar. I drove away sad, the world is so broken, so trapped in its own mad snare - and I trembled when I watched you and saw my own reflection. I knew how you felt, because I felt the same things this morning. The old nature dies so hard, and I fight it so feebly - but the arms that hold me up are strong. 

I wish you could be free, would let go of your rage, the seething need to be right, your upside-down priorities. I don't know how to reach you, I don't even know who you are, don't know where you live - your face was too far away, and disappeared down the street. 

 I prayed for you on the way home, that someone will be sent to you, sent with the light. Oh, what you could be if you were restored, if you believed! You are immortal, do you know?  

I forgot to pray for the kid behind the gas station register, with hair in his sad eyes and a mumbling voice. He is immortal too, but I was too much in a hurry, anxious for supper and family, eyes turned in already.  

There is so much need, so, so much, and I see so little of it. How can I reach you? God, show me how ... make me willing, make me see, and show me how.


This song came on my mp3 player's shuffle as I drove away. How can we keep from singing? But we have to sing so the world can hear.