"And now, with God’s help, I shall become
myself..."
Søren
Kierkegaard
But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Rob Thomas
(Matchbook 20)
_______________________________
we hear it all the time
I am
I am broken
I am a sinner
I am an alcoholic or an addict
I am
but the real question is,
“Who am I?”
Do you know
Do you care?
Do I even know who I really am?
I believe in original blessing
that we come into this world
stuffed with Sacred
look at a child
any child
even children who, from a human perspective
with syndromes and other challenges
look at a child
look deep into their eyes
and you will see
God
or if not God
a stairway to heaven
there
in those eyes
I have gone through I lot in life
I had wonderful parents, healthy siblings
Privilege, and safety
I was gifted with reasonable looks
Moderate size
Decent intelligence
I have been educated beyond all reason
I have also made horrible mistakes
and have allowed an overactive and anxious brain
to haunt me
I have stumbled through 70-plus years
doing good, doing bad
helping and hurting
being moral and being a mess
eating well, and eating poorly
compensating for my bully brain in ways
that damaged and eroded soul, mind, and body
and here I am
wondering, as I look in the mirror at this sagging body
wondering as my soul stumbles as much as my feet
and my brain replays all the lowlights of my life
who I am
when was I most who “I am”
when was I optimal?
the closest to the divine blessing
the original intent?
I don’t know
I can remember a time when I was healthy
Young
Flexible
Cute
Relatively undamaged
Confident
Happy
Hopeful
At least I think I can!
How old was I
Before I started to pick up the garbage
That I have hauled around for so long?
The thoughts and feelings,
The memories
That cling and burden
And twist and distort?
That leave me saying
“I am not enough”
“I am not loved”
“I have made too many mistakes, and am not respected”
“I have nothing to say”
“I am only liked for what I can do, not for who I am”
(Perhaps you know the litany?)
How old was I before those years when I drank to me
And now, these times when I eat too much
Hammered my body
Until now everything hurts, and what doesn’t hurt doesn’t
work?
I can picture myself
Five?
Six?
Older?
And as I do I remember Jesus, talking to another
Wrinkled gnome of a soul, Nicodemus
Another soul deeply imprisoned by his head
Out of tune with his heart and saying
You must be born again
(which means you must be born from above)
You must open yourself again to Sacred Love
Be filled again, even if you leak
With God’s presence
You must once again see yourself as a child of God
A child
twisted, humped, wrinkled, white-bearded, but a child
one in whom the Sacred shines through
one with bright eyes, looking forward into the future
one still grown
still improving
on the way
one God can look at as see God’s self
the image
reflected back
one with eyes, full of love and hope
acceptance and welcome
In heaven (perhaps) there will be only five-year-old eyes
(Michel Quoist)
I do not want to see myself
As old
Battered
Twisted, withered, dried, hard
I want to see myself as a Sacred child
Forever (in all the ways that count) young
“Alleluia!
Alleluia!
Open, all of you, little old creatures
It is I, your God, the eternal, risen from the dead,
coming to bring back to life the child in you.
Hurry! Now is the time. I am ready to give you again the
beautiful face of a child, the beautiful eyes of a child.
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