We know this is true, but do not remember.
There would not have been words to describe what we felt, and this is accepted by most of us.
But the man on the bed did not just accept it. The man on the bed now has the words.
*
I was thinking about Sundays. I spent the Sundays of my childhood in the basement classroom of our church, learning about God’s love and sacrifices. The adults upstairs would sing and pray and we accepted it all, without asking for proof. God was too big to explain. We just had to believe. And so I did.
I never gave much thought to things I could not explain. I never thought about what made sense or what felt right. I did not question the paradox in it all, and I was never close to God. He was just a word I claimed to believe in. A name to call out to when I needed
