grace.

I've got six minutes to write.

and then i must get up and keep going.

going, going.

i wonder, this morning,

how peter, james, and john

felt sitting at the bottom of the mountain,

bewildered,

as their beloved wept on top of the mountain,

in agony.

i wonder if they were ashamed of their ignorance.

i wonder other things too:

how long did it take for the woman behind the line

to break her promise,

"go and sin no more?"

how many minutes from his kind eyes

to her next relapse into the

life she taught herself

by routine and such steady practice:

five husbands and a couple of lovers.

i wonder these things as my eyes

well up with tears thinking that

his mercies are new every morning,

that his kindness leads me to repentance,

that I have taught myself rebellion for twenty-two long years,

and now I am tired.

and now I see grace in submission,

so much so that I would wear a scarf on my head

if it would beckon you to come faster.

if it would woo you into my heart

to replace my cavities with gold.

so lovesick, am i, that I might just do anything you asked me to.

though your simple request to

go and sin no more

seems more impossible than all the rest.

and for this, i pray grace.

"Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long"