jordan almonds and jesus christ

into the woods

i’ve been thinking about jordan almonds lately.

and how the weakest among us take the brunt of our anger.

and how jesus is both.

he’s the jordan almonds and the weakest among us.

chilly

children

it was my dad’s cousin’s wedding where i first tasted jordan almonds.

or maybe it was before that.  maybe it was my mother’s best friend’s wedding where jordan almonds were spilled out all over the table with squares of lace and ribbon.

we were making things.

i put one in my mouth and life got better.  and stranger.

there are parts of life that lift us up.  that show us that there is more than we’d known. things that make life better than before.

jordan almonds were like that for me.

like jesus.

with it’s thinnest, white shell over the meat of an almond making me feel the teeth in my mouth.  making me an instant addict to the quality and the promise of a good thing.

a simple, good thing.

unsafe

and my grandfather in his hospital bed at the assisted living facility.

or my son, doing everything right in the backseat of the car, but on the receiving end of irrational anger because he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time.

like an unarmed teenager or a child with a disability or a six-year-old that can’t do anything but accept your unkind words.

like jesus on the cross.

these weak, thin places in our world where we pour out our wrath.  these receptacles of how unfair, how frustrated, how crooked and wrong our souls really are.

they receive our broken messes like shards of glass flying straight towards them.

but only one takes it on purpose.

and he teaches us that those other weak places in this world are meant to be honored, not placed under our boot.

he teaches that the weakest among us don’t exist for us to do whatever the hell we want to because we can and they can’t.

he teaches us.

winter

jesus christ.

jesus christ, you are both.

you are the sweetest, simplest quality endeavor of my time here.

and you are the broken, weakest before me willing to take my screaming rage, able to receive it all and not be diminished.

i’m thankful again today.

This entry was posted in grief, jesus, outside, thanksgiving, weakness. Bookmark the permalink.

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One Response to jordan almonds and jesus christ

  1. joshua says:

    it would take too long and it wouldn’t communicate

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