Unexpected Jesus
It’s Quiet Day in Lent,
a time of meditation
on texts our priest reads
every hour. Sun slanting
through windows breathes
soft music of masts
rocking in tangent
marinas.
At noon bell
we reach for brown bags,
leave the cool sanctuary.
Warm April air caresses,
a breeze off the Gulf
invites us, but beyond
wrought-iron benches
Jesus is sleeping
on sunbaked cement
at the foot of the cross
that beckons boaters
on the Sound.
Breathless, we resume
our fast from speech, begin
tiptoeing back inside,
but the bearded, bronzed
young man in holey jeans,
shirtless and sandaled,
has heard and rises,
makes to leave, then finds
himself surrounded,
fed–not loaves and fishes,
but sandwiches and brownies
by women who’ve vowed
to seek Him in every person.
It’s not always this easy.
Lucia Walton Robinson is a born-again Episcopalian filled with gratitude for salvation.