the cross

November 3, 2008
She held the purest form of corruption in the palm of her hand. The smooth paleness of her fingers caressed it’s crimson skin, clinging to it gently as she watched him leave. Her eyes pale blue orbs in her absent face. Just wide shimmering wet pools of honey sweet sorrow so pure it was angelic. Petal soft pink lips tremble precariously in his wake against the smooth ivory skin of her flawless face. Again she looks upon the apple with undying question. The wind sharp and cold billows her long dark curls into disarray, as she blends among the bustle becoming lost in the pulsation of the city. It’s cold dark alleys consuming her forever, the people too busy to notice and too lost to hear her desperate cry. A fixated longing and sorrow saturating the quality of her voice. But I hear her. Her voice holds me where I stand like the sun holds the moon, like night holds day. She holds the crimson demon close to her, small feet in shining black high heels moving her slowly forward. Dark curls hide an angles tilted face as she walks. I feel the presence of God a warm feeling. It was the feeling of song. God’s glory in its purest form bubbling up from the center of your soul a golden rush, a glimpse of what haven feels like. A sinners redemption. I stop closing my eyes letting him surround me in the bustle Boston.

“Please save me.” a cool hand wraps around my wrist. Startled I look up. She was begging me with her eyes, a corrupted angle stands before me and the grace of God. She clutches the apple more tightly looking up into the flurrying snow. “please.” She whispers. My heart was in agony looking at what falling from grace could reduce you to. She was small and fragile with thin legs exposed by a skirt that was too short with a winter coat that was too thin. I look into the clouds still feeling God’s holy presence surrounding me a golden warmth urging me forward.

“I wasn’t strong enough to resist. I broke my promise.” Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the cracked snow speckled side walk. Her head bowed and eyes closed she was defeated. All she had was her crimson corruption held gently in her small hands. “he won’t love me anymore… I betrayed him when all he ever did was love me.” she looked into my eyes pleading “I’m so sorry.” She whispered to the apple. She shook her head. “I am beyond helping now. . . it’s ok” her voice cracked “I understand.” She turned slowly her shoulders shaking slightly with the sobs of uncontrollable distress and regret.

“Wait.” I whisper to the ground. I pull my scarf closer to me waiting. I’m only a preacher of a small congregation of people I’ve known for years. I don’t know why god sent me an angle. But he did. She is corrupt and broken but still pure and she can be mended and forgiven. Salvation bought by grace alone will save her. She turns around a desperate pleading in her pale blue eyes. I dig through my pockets feeling the slippery metal I was looking for. It was my wife’s, the love so sweet and pure God’s greatest gift to me. Tears sprang to my eyes, I knew she was loved dearly by God and I would see her soon. I also knew it would make her happy. I pulled the golden chain from the warmth of my pocket into the cold air, exposing it. I watched the light play off thin cross that hung from my wife’s most precious necklace before handing it to God’s corrupted angle. “He will never stop loving you.” I watched her take it in her hand tears pouring down her face. She nodded slowly never taking her eyes from the necklace in her hand.

“Thank you.” She turned and disappeared into the crowd. I thanked God for the strength he has blessed me with and the life I was so thankful to have. I began to turn away so I could begin my descent home, but something hit my foot. I look down and there leaning against me snow swirling up and around it was an apple. Crimson red and beautiful pure corruption. I smile looking up into the clouds.

“No, thank you.”

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