and everything is jangled.
everything a mess, i suppose.
it’s messy from the outside looking in.
but i don’t see it that way.
and i hope.
i hope that what god sees makes him grin.
and i hope it makes him want to lend a hand.
lots of things in this life don’t make sense.
i’m taking notes from a god that asks us not to store up in barns.
and i feel the pressures of convention when they come to make me feel small and weird and a little bit crazy. and i don’t know what to do or what i’m doing.
but then i find her on the stairway.
here she is.
her every breath defies what people normally do.
the very sight of her is relief.
and i remember that god is creative and messy and very real.