Is It a Glitch or a Glimpse?

"Cursed is the ground...it will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field."

Genesis 3:17-18

"The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared. The owner's servants came to him and said, 'Sir, didn't you sow good seed in your field? Where did the weeds come from?"

"An enemy did this," he replied.

The servants asked him, "Do you want us to go and pull them up?"

"No," he answered, "because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them."

Matthew 13:24-29

The sun burns away the fog

It's heat dissipating the blanket of haze.

I'm a little sleepy as I begin to pull weeds in my garden, 

careful not to pull up the sunflowers too.

I begin to remember a story a friend told me the other day. A bizarre story. 

Her friend was sleepy too. 

She'd long since deconstructed from her conservative religious upbringing, and now seemed to be floating in limbo somewhere between her pain and deep desire for belonging.

"Sometimes I think I have a desire to work with refugees."

"Oh?" my friend replied. "Where do you think that comes from?"

"I'm not really sure...do you want another margherita?" and with that, her hazy blanket wrapped around her body and she forgot where that desire came from.

I shake my head as I'm jolted back to my garden and the hot sun and the sting of a thistle that breaks my skin. I sit down and sigh.

Is this all that we're meant for? 

Thorns growing among the wheat and into our sides

we squirm and pull.

Why must I live with this thorn in my side?

We fight the weeds and then we die.

The ground is blessed and cursed.

From dust we came and to dust we shall return.

We are blessed and cursed.

So this is what it's like east of Eden

a flash, a glimpse and glimmer.

I turn around,

what was that beauty that just passed by me?

It's gone now,

now I have a strange homesickness within me.

What am I suppose to do with all of this longing?

I'm too tired to keep lulling myself back to sleep.

Another blade of grass cuts my hand,

I suck the blood out and carry on.

Where is the good?

Where are you Eden?

Have I been so consumed over my search for safety

that I've missed the goodness?

I start parting the foxtail and dandelion and chickweed.

Don't pull them up just yet.

Where are you blessing?

Ah! There you are.

I can't believe you were here this whole time.

Father, take away this thorn in my flesh.

No, my grace is sufficient for you.

I plop down in the dust with sweat dripping down my brow,

and put the strawberry in my mouth.

It bursts with it's sweet juices.

I look for another one as I brush a mosquito off my leg.

I take heart thinking of the crown of thorns Jesus wore.

Father remove these thorns from my flesh.

Death thought he could win.

No, my grace is sufficient.

Where is your sting now, oh Death?

Then I remember Jesus also said, "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

The thorns will be pulled out.

The blades of grass will cut no more.

The wheat will be harvested.

I knew it was there all along.