Sunday puddles. A poem.

*******

I parked in the middle of the giant puddle 
on purpose. There would be

no way of getting away from it, no way

to avoid the slosh and splatter. 

But I didn’t care.

I Just wanted to remember what it felt like to be 

careless. Not in the sense of neglect, 

but in the sense of casting aside the baggage 

of 

brokenness that makes me 

pinched and mean and more 

like the things that broke me 

than who God formed me to be,

before.

Before the pain bent me.

I parked in the puddle, dressed 

in my Sunday best, so I could 

remember the joy and stand straight

in His sanctuary.

********

“For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace…” Romans 6:14 (ESV)

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