What Wondrous Love

The last parade had rolled.

Bleary eyed we sat in the pew

waiting for ashes and forgiveness.

She sat next to me coloring

in her own little world;

a world where sin

is sneaking a cookie before dinner.

We listen to the Word:

“Be not like the hypocrites…”

thoughts of dinner and laundry interrupting

the well worn verses.

She whispers loudly

in the way that only a child can

“who are the hypocrites?”

I shush her;

in the way that only a mother can.

She whispers even louder

urgently even,

“BUT WHO ARE THE HYPOCRITES”

She is not just listening

like the rest of us.

She is hearing

The Word of God.

She needs to know who they are,

so she can be sure she is not like them,

Tears flood my eyes.

My throat closes, 

chest tight.

I kiss the top of her head,

but I cannot answer.

I cannot even whisper it softly,

because the answer is

I am them, baby.

All of us are.

But not you,

Not yet.

Be not like them, my love.

Keep listening.

Keep hearing.

Most of all, keep loving.

Love’s the only thing that

can stop you from being like them.

Like me.

Like us.

Love’s the only thing.