when i was a little girl in big plastic glasses and corduroy dresses, i would scrunch my eyes shut and imagine the crucifixion and try to feel the sadness i knew i was supposed to feel.
i’d try to feel repentant but it was so much easier not to, because Jesus died 2,000 years ago, and i was only eight.
but i don’t think repentance is about feeling sorry for something that happened 2,000 years ago. i don’t think it’s about shutting our eyes at all. i think it’s about opening them wide to today. to the gaping wound that is our world…
(follow me here, to a deeper story, for the rest of this story, friends? and join us for the FINAL imperfect prose on thursdays this wednesday, before the summer holidays… we will be resuming the link-up first week of september. love you all.)