Scattered Prose for a Little Rose

Today I should have been burned
I should have been struck down by lightning.

I went to Diving Liturgy with a heavy heart;
My mind had a week’s worth of sin on instant replay

We arrived on time for orthros, and I had my chance to confess.
But—well, no—there were others waiting patiently to do the same.

Not enough time.

And I thought of how little I had prepared for today
Why hadn’t I refrained? Declined? Ignored?

For with each tiny indulgence of the week, the weeds inside strengthened,
choking any shred of purity I could offer on this Sunday morn.

I thought of Elder Iakovos, who kept his eyes low when distributing the Gifts,
For when he looked up, he sometimes saw the grotesque and sickly faces of the unworthy.

I thought of my own face, appearing as ugly as a dog, a monkey.
I thought of everything… except God’s grace.

So when the Holy Gifts were lifted, and the faithful were told to approach
With faith, love and the fear of God; the thorns bound my feet to the ground.

Yes, I would hold back today, with great confusion and sorrow only for my own sinfulness.
It would take some breakthrough, some miracle to clear my confusion
and do otherwise.

So when my godmother came and led her son to my side and said,
“He wants to go with you today,” I looked down at this little child, surprised.

I had never been the object of such a request, especially
for this shy and quiet three year old. I felt unworthily honored.

I would have, should have, could have said, “No,” but again such a request was rare.
So I smiled. He crossed his little arms in a reverent grasp over his heart.

He marched up to the Chalice, little man.
Oh, he knew what he was doing, and he didn’t need my guidance.

I needed his.

So with a love I’ll never fully understand on this earth, I partook.
With a faith in God’s great mercy, (if I’d ever needed His mercy before), I partook.
And with the fear of God (if I’d ever feared Him before) I partook.

Whether I did the right thing or not, only our Lord knows.
Whether my face configured into a raw and monstrous form, I’m not the one who knows.

And I thought of the little three year old, whose dedication to the temple we commemorated today; this gentle little girl who would become the Mother of our Lord.

This bold and tiny handmaiden of God, who marched, unassisted, up the steps of the temple, where she was lead into the Holiest of Holies—a mystery, a jewel.

Oh sinner that I am--
All I know is that today a tangle of thorns confused and suffocated my soul.
But for some reason, a little blossom of a child led me to follow his example,
to receive with faith, love and the fear of God.

And somehow I'm not so broken, not so burdened as I was when I awoke,
unworthy as I am.