Relinquishing A Wound
Yesterday at the grocery store I dared to admire the tulips. Audaciously waiting just inside the front door, they stood like trollops draped in shades of Easter candy: babycheek pink, duckling yellow, Lladró lavender. Stems held the blooms erect above their brazen leaves. Not even one proud tulip bowed toward her nourishing soil.
Glory, I thought as their beauty stole my breath.
But wait! barked the sergeant-at-arms who lives inside my brain. You must not take delight in tulips! Have you forgotten? He brought you tulips. He even tried to woo you back with tulips–as if mute flowers could rebuild your stomped-upon heart. NONONONONO you are forbidden to find joy in tulips.
Disheartened, I shunned the ephemeral treasure before me, forcing my eyes to a pyramid of pears.
Then that bossy bailiff who abides in my brain brashly blew his whistle. And that tinny blast shook the stubborn dust from the leather of my shamefaced shoes.
Enough! I smacked into a wall of bricks in the dungeon of that baseborn love. I unguarded my heart and carried its shards home in my hip pocket, smashed.
Listen here, you noisy little Napoleon-in-my-noggin. You live to brand me with failure, to bind my weary hands to regret. You hum the no-good chant of the doomed.
But God created those tulips to tickle my heart. And by His grace I don’t hear you anymore.
There will be silence before You, and praise in Zion, O God,
And to You the vow will be performed.
2 O You who hear prayer,
To You all men come.
3 Iniquities prevail against me;
As for our transgressions, You forgive them.
4 How blessed is the one whom You choose and bring near to You
To dwell in Your courts.
We will be satisfied with the goodness of Your house,
Your holy temple.
Psalm 65:1-4 (NASB)