I watched her cross the last few yards of the field, as I made the turn onto the drive leading out of the neighborhood. I paused to let her cross, an uncomfortable smile brushes her lips. Yesterdays clothes, slightly akimbo, wrinkled from where they were discarded thoughtlessly. Make up smeared, blurry like a picture out of focus. Hair a nest.
Head down, she moves quickly now, for the safety of her home, behind closed doors. Her penance complete, her walk of shame.
Where has she been? What has she done?
Is she searching to fill the painful void, ever present with each heart beat? Acceptance found ever so briefly, in the coupling with strangers?
Is she trying to feel again? To break the scar tissue built up by broken relationships and broken dreams? To hide the ugliness she sees every time she passes by the mirror?
No stones to cast, the spell is broken, I have to get to work. Compassion fills my heart, for I too have walked the walk, in search of forgiveness, love, acceptance, and truth.
At the end of your rope, do you find a hangman's noose or a Savior's arms?