holding His breath
The walking path meandered, through a controlled wooded area, as much as any path can meander when located on a narrow strip in the heart of a city. I stopped at a bench beside a bridge. Across the river there was an abandoned encampment. I wondered if the encampment was related to the grocery cart.
I got no peace from my morning walk. The river was as shallow as a puddle and left nothing to the imagination. Joggers and walkers, innocently out for their morning exercise, were a constant source of paranoia. Nothing stirred to divert my attention from the rumblings of my own conscious. Sin, unattended, only gets uglier.
We all fall and God extends the hand of forgiveness to all of us. It is in those moments before we take that hand that time stands still, as if God himself is holding his breath in anticipation.
