let me show you a beautiful thing
i lived in three houses as a girl.
the very first one stays with me as the truest home. patton street. ten years of growing up. ten years of not knowing anything but 7702 patton in detroit, michigan.
i don’t know when it started but i would walk two blocks down to warren road by myself with one dollar and ten cents in my pocket.
when you grow up without a language for god, god speaks itself.
i’d push open the door to the tiny chinese take out restaurant. how did i ever end up there? it was filled with light. sunshine warmed the walls and the floors and there was a huge glass jar filled with fortune cookies that were ten cents a piece.
i bought eleven.
the transaction was magical to me. the ordering. the white sheath of bag that held the cookies so filled it could barely be rolled down, but always creased to a fold it was. the handing of it over and the walking out with so much just for me.
there were things i loved and appreciated that sang a different song than the rest of my known world. uncapturable pleasures and tiny windows that promised to open into greater good and i loved to follow their scent.
a fortune cookie wasn’t about the fortune inside. i read them and forgot them immediately. but the taste of that smoothest somehow porous barely sweetened tan formed shape of a cookie? no, i didn’t forget.
what was this beautiful thing?
where is the artist and its source?
who are these lovely people and how did i stumble into this sunlit place?
i’m still here trying to reach the source of all the ringing bells of beautiful things.
i don’t feel any closer.
always just around the corner, always i take a wrong turn but know i’ll be there soon.
and the people i’ve met along the way, oh.
oh, how i love them.
together we press on.
some of driving buses filled with those who trust us, believing that we know the way.
reachable places and beautiful hints at all that is to come. one of the languages of god that i love to listen for.
god, help me not mess this whole thing up. help me actually reach you where you dwell. help me bring those you’ve given to me safely and let me able to say –
“See! Here it is! This is what I was trying to tell you! Come with me! You won’t believe your eyes.”
so, let’s not grow weary.
let’s not tire of it.
let’s keep the faith, as it were, and see what we can not see.