Pulled out of the handy Pandora's box of tricks, they wait until needed -- the shaded perspectives and j'accuse shadows from years past. A moment of conflict and out they come: Acid memories like corpses painted on warehouse walls, dead with the weight of crossed purposes, weighing you down -- pieces of arguments and points of view falling off like multiple versions of CSI episodes.
But that's not me, (or you for that matter.) No matter how many times anger paints it and no matter how long the finger points. We are all of us essentially paradigm free from yesterday, inside this continuously present Now.
I remain who I am. At home in my own skin. Patient. Waiting, without expectation of permanence, down will be up again. Or not.
Eyes clear and Spirit strong, I walk with Jesus.
But still I sin, you sin, the world sins: Upon a breath's turn all is forgiven, clean and new.
No dragging bodies of self made monster memories, accusations or addictive avenues of ego-escape from our Home that is the Lord. The Alpha and Omega calls to prayer, a life obedient to love and tender honestey. All we can do is drop our own protective masks. The healing balm and saving grace is up to God.
