Thursday, October 4, 2012


Jesus and I sit around the table, a rectangular wooden table that seats up to eight people. It's cold outside. The light emanating from the lamps is warm and soft. There's no where I'd rather be than here alone with my Beloved. But we're not alone.

"You are angry with me?" I understand why he asks. I cannot hide anything from him. He welcomes it all like the real ones hassles, no judgment, only compassion and love. I decorate a bowl with some fruit and place it in the center of our space together. "I do not wish to speak. You already see what resides in my heart."

"True, but I also see your need to share with me. And since I am here, you must use me." I sit and pat down my dress, gently grab hold of the table cloth before me and feel the fabric between my fingers, reminds me of my Mother. "I don't understand, Jesus. I don't understand. If I had been alive during your time, I would have held you in my arms. I would have wiped away the blood from your face, your arms, your hands. I would have stayed with you. Like a good woman, a true woman."

"I don't understand my Lord, how some can walk in your name and be so deceitful, how they can twist the truth to serve themselves, how they can say one thing and do the opposite. Help me understand this hypocrisy. I know we all make mistakes. I know we are not perfect. I know we have much to live up to, to work towards. I know there is much to forgive...but..."

"But? You can be open with me."

"I will not be fooled again. The devil can tempt me all he wants. He will fail."

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