Last week (or maybe the week before) it was lizards. Today, a gas station. Jesus shows up in surprising ways. We best be kind to all and accept the grace. My nightmare this morning reminded me that when I struggle, I am struggling to reach my heart. I wonder why sometimes that journey seems so hard. Even in a brand new bright red pick-up that yes, was in my dream. Packed with too much stuff, it proved to be of no shiny help at all. Or perhaps ultimately it did. Regardless, this morning I shall walk. Thank you, Jesus.
This is a beautiful poem.
Gas Station Communion
It was a little thing, really,
this offer to fill my tire.I was unscrewing the valve cap
and heard a voice behind me.
‘Here, I’ll get that for you”
“Oh that’s ok, I’ve got it,” is what I
normally say to such overtures,
this knee-jerk reaction to refuse.
I am the one who offers to help,
I am the one who serves.
Perhaps it was the eager spirit
in his face or his brown eyes
full of hopeful connection that
caused me to say okay.
I felt the vibration of
his unspoken benediction:
I can’t do much for you,
fellow weary traveler,
but I can do this. Lay
your burden down and
I will carry it for a bit.
And I couldn’t help but wonder
how many times I have denied
someone the blessing of serving
because I have been too stubborn
to accept their gift.
As I was standing there in
the sun drenched gas station
parking lot, the hiss and tick of
the air pump sounded very much
like a psalm. I watched his hands
filling more than just my tire with air,
while goodness and grace
swirled around us.
~ Paula Gordon Lepp
First Sip
photograph: Oakland, August 2022
No comments:
Post a Comment