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11-10 11-10 is "a safe place to search for God." This is the on-line camp fire for us searchers to gather arround to share life and the thoughts that flow out of our lives. Welcome.
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I hate you, God. Love, Madelleine. I wrote my message on water and at bedtime I tiptoe upsatis and let it flow under your door. When I am angry with you I know that you are there even if you do not answer my knock even when you butler opens the door an inch and flaps his thousand wings in annoyance at such untoward interruption and says the master is not at home. I love you, Madeleine, Hate, God. (This is how I treat my friends, he said to one great saint. No wonder you have so few, Lord, she replied) I cannot turn the other cheek it takes all the strength I have to keep from hitting back. The soldiers bayonet the baby the little boys trample the old woman the gutters are filled with groans while pleasure-seekers knock each other down to get their tickets stamped first. I'm turing in my ticket and my letter of introduction you're supposed to do the knocking. How can I write to you and tell you that I'm angry when I've been given the wrong address and I don't even know your right name? I take hammer and nails and tack my message on two crossed pieces of wood Dear God, is it too much to ask you to bother to be? Just show your hindquarters and let me hear you roar. Love, Madeline From THE IRRATIONAL SEASON
::: posted by Julie VW at 9:07 AM |
