Jesus isn’t just a facebook page or a status or a thought. But if it were to be that we were engaged in a relationship of sorts that’s exactly how it would be: it’s complicated.
For all the times I have given Him grief, fought Him, argued with Him, strayed from Him and yet He still waited ever so patiently. I like a histrionic muse back and forth into His arms. I want so badly to please Him but find myself wrestling with the false covering of this world. The job, the money, the house, the worldly inspiration- it all looks so innocent lovely. But-
It is missing the meat
So when I grab for those things and they dissipate in my hands, I am drawn back into my lover’s arms, the loving arms of Jesus.
In the hours and the times and the ways that I spend with Him, I find myself wanting, panting for more time. Like an adulterer, I steal away from my husband deep into the night to find Him. I creep downstairs and seek Him. I close my eyes and caress my rosary to know Him. I want Him to see me, to know me and to love me to.
Oh my beloved, I already do.
I find my days are filled with thoughts of Him and I drift and I dream of the hour that I may escape for our lunch time escapade.
I slide down my chair and past my office door to make my way to the church next door, slowly moving as not to give away my secret. I see Him, just past the street sign, the park.
He is waiting for me.
The smell is familiar, an old oak and the smell of old. It is inviting me in. I look around to see who is watching.
Will anyone find out my secret?
Door creaks, people peek, silence buzzes and I creep into the back pew kneeler and all.
Slowly, gently I lower it and slip into His arms. Hands to forehead, my blessed before me. The others do not exist, it is only Him and I.
The buzzing is still ever present, I am lost in His call. His blessed mother watching us, it all seems so wrong.
But He has called me this way, for this time in this place. It is our lair, our time, our love and nobody else’s. He is the only one who has my heart. So they all can watch, including the uncomfortable glance from His mother.
But she too knows why I am here.
I can’t and don’t want to go back to the place from which I came. He is magnetic and wanting but tells me I must go. It is a tug o war with my heart. It becomes complicated.
So I cross my body and steal a final glance, mother approving, as I gather myself together to re-enter the world.
The sun is too bright.
The trees too tall
The air too thin
I can still smell Him, and it is lovely
I must, have to go back. It is a back and forth. An in motion. A this and that. A long embrace.
My hiding place, my rest my all in all.
Where were you? My boss says