When I was invited to write a post for my friends at Agnellus’ Mirror, I had no idea that God would give me the opportunity to put my money where my mouth is, so to speak.
During Lent, the Mirror is sharing reflections upon various images of Christ crucified. Reading this series has been one of the most thought-provoking and, yes, entertaining parts of my own observance of the season. With images of the Cross from Europe to Africa, and even from an American bedroom, the universality of Christ’s sacrifice and divine love is wonderfully on display, with words that touch the human heart. (Worth exploring from the beginning.) My own little contribution came in the form of a poem: Conform Me to Your Likeness, Lord.
Even as I prayed this prayer beneath the crucifix in my room, even as I set the poem down in words, I asked myself, “Do I really mean it?” The fact that I sent it out into the world means that I do mean it in my heart, even if I’m not mentally or emotionally prepared to live up to it. God seems to take me at my word, however. This week, my knee got tweaked badly in the daily routine of transferring me from wheelchair to bed. I say tweaked, but it was more like wrenched. It doesn’t take much to hurt my little limbs. (Maybe a torn meniscus? That’s what Dr. Internet suggests. Doesn’t really matter what it is, however, because I don’t do surgery and, anyway, it wouldn’t get me up and walking!)
Pain that’s worse when I sit, so lying down a lot, which means eating and digesting is more difficult. Everything is more difficult. This is the first time I have sat at the computer in days, and my knee is burning, building in sharp little pains, that I know will be worse when I lie down, with little relief unless iced. Until it hurts like mad again. At least, thank God, I don’t need to walk on it. Seriously! I keep imagining what it would be like if I were a dancer and this was a career damaging, whole life altering injury. This happens to people every day, with far worse consequences of longer impact. I pray they have supportive loved ones like mine. For I thank God — thank you, most generous and gracious God — I have two amazing, loving, self-sacrificing parents who go above and beyond in taking care of me every day, even more so on days like these.
Okay, that’s enough for today. Without further ado, the post:
I don't call myself a poet — but the beating of my heart is poetry. I don't call myself a theologian — but the light of my mind seeks the Divine. Who I am is a Child of God, a Divine Creation, a person devoted to being fully human, fully alive.