pain lancing my chest,
tears blinding me as I tackled a mound of dirty dishes.
Exhaustion weighed heavy,
my arms like a stone.
I was alone, disconnected
I could almost see the knife
piercing my heart.
There was a name on the handle;
I strained my inner eye,
expecting to see my husband’s name carved into the wood
I tried to manipulate the letters,
But I could not force them to spell his name.
The etched letters
Clearly spelled Melanie.
My eyes widened,
I literally gasped in shock.
dissolving the knife and the sharp pain with it into an insubstantial mist.
I was the architect of my misery,
a dramatic self-made victim,
acting like a pitiful scapegoat.
Reality made me smile.
An inner switch flipped.
Misery slipped off like useless rags
The mountain of work thrown into the sea by a mustard seed of common sense because there was no mountain except in my self-pitying delusions of martyred grandeur.
Self- depreciating laughter,
Cutting through Stress.
A Strange Calm.
The Spirit of Truth and Joy had finally triumphed.
Christ is the only sacrifice who redeems and heals us.
connecting with theology is a verb