DIRT

There was a chill in the church.

I put my hands in my coat pockets while the Easter sermon hummed along.

In an instant I was mentally and emotionally transported to another place.

Inside my right pocket was dirt.

I pulled it out as a lump grew in my throat.

My peach jacket had been cleaned after my mother’s funeral.

This was unexpected…

and wonderful.

That day in February,

I had grabbed a handful of the dirt that buried my mother’s body

before the carpet of sod lie over the mound of her, now marked grave.

I released it in my pocket as the very very… very last morsel of the heavy moment.

The Easter sermon continued but my thoughts reminisced.

Tears flowed, and I tried to conceal them.

A different feeling came over me, then.

Easter

broke the bonds

of death and mortality.

Dirt,

someplace else

and far away

absorbed tears of blood,

surrounded a wooden cross,

a burial tomb,

and a blessed garden where new life and hope

arose.

Dirt

in my pocket;

An Easter gift–

little

and

BIG!

 

 

 

Advertisements
This entry was posted in My Thoughts and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s