A Picture of Purity

I would like to share a profound experience that I went through this afternoon. But first a bit of background:

I was raised solely by my mother. At the age of 11 she was diagnosed with Hepatitis C, a disease of the liver. She suffered from alcoholism for as long as I can remember. This did not make things any better for her. By the time I reached 13 things had gone so far downhill there was no hope for redemption. She was at the bar more than she was at home; gone sometimes for weeks at a time. By 14 I had witnessed my mother slowly kill herself using alcohol.

Naturally, I have an aversion to alcohol and anyone who has clearly been drinking. And living in a town that has a lot of “drunk natives” it pains me to see the destruction alcohol reaps through peoples lives.

Today we had an outdoor church service and barbeque as a kickoff to a week long Sports Camp my church is putting on. Now, I am not a Christian. I go to church, I believe in God, I pray.  I do not believe in Jesus, or that the Bible s Truth. (My Pastor is aware of this) But I do try to live accordingly. I love, and try not to judge and today it was definitely put to the test.

Now, we have a few members suffering from addictions, and I do my best to support and love them through the trials. As I was talking to one in particular, a gentleman came up. One I normally would try my best to avoid, and at the very least keep my children as far away from as possible.

It soon became apparent the gentleman was drunk. Almost falling over wasted. we offered the man some food and sat him down in the shade. He requested prayer but the service was moments away from commencement. My Pastor asked him to sit through the service and he would be with him as soon as it was done. I, for whatever reason, became the one appointed to checking in on him. Eventually, to my dismay, I ended up sitting with him, and my two children.

This was hard for me, seeing as how I am just now dealing with the anger that has plagued me for over ten years surrounding the death of my mother. When I witness the next scene, I almost lost it. I was so… moved, that I had to come home immediately and paint a picture. Unfortunately, I am horrible with anything other than words, so what follows is the scene between my four year old daughter and the gentleman.

A young girl of four clothed in a skirt of plaid

Stands with the sun’s rays falling on her shoulders

A small tattered feather in her outstretched hand

The perfect shade of white, pure and innocent

An elderly gentleman, long since abandoned

Sits in the darkness cast by the large oak

Reaching out to accept her gift,

A hint of a smile on his pained face

A chaste interaction between innocence and guilty

Speaks volumes to anyone who watches

A simple offering was received

But to the two the act meant more

The child of God reaches out

And pulls a lost soul into the light.

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