When Suzanne was a child everything seemed to be in order. There was a place for everything, including her secrets. Keep them tucked away, dance around in denial, and sing a song of happiness even when she was crying inside. She thought is was the way of the world. But it was her world. Her relatives loved her, her parents cared for her, her friends were more loyal than 3rd graders who can only handle friendship when it’s wrapped in a threesome. But no one seemed to question her internal sadness. Probably, because it was a secret dance.
Tiptoeing, swirling around the floor, bending, stretching, and catching herself before she falls. There were no older siblings, giant brother, no looming guardians, except her belief in Jesus. He would save her. He was there, and she just knew it. But one day she did a test. 5 year olds are always testing everything on the table, in the air, and in their minds. I can feel Jesus while I am praying. But what if I am just imagining it? She squeezed her hands tightly and didn’t pray. Nothing, she felt nothing. So if she doesn’t pray, Jesus will not be there. I have to pray.
Then one day she squeezed her hands together again, and there was no pulsation that was signaling Jesus to her. Oh, no. He’s not here. Thus began the secret dance began, and it meant that she could not trust anyone, not even Jesus. He was as fickle as the others, and her five year old temperament was not about to believe that she didn’t know it all. She already knew the tooth fairy, the Santa Claus and the fairy godmother stories were bogus, so she just threw Jesus under the secret revelations of innocence lost bus. Amen, Now I lay me down to …….
jjn 11/7/20 10:34 am