04 September 2005
I wanted to blog yesterday about being able to rewind life and clear the the pains inflicted upon us we cannot bear, words we say and didn't mean, the actions we did and wished we didn't, the disasters that interrupt our lives . . .
But I couldn't put all the words together yesterday, so I chose instead to post a poem by Carole Satyamurti referring to nail polish and the comfort involved in painting your nails.
There is something wonderful about being able to stain your fingers in a color as bright as blood and being able to wipe them clean again with a little bit of remover. The stains of nail polish are reversible, unlike many of the stains of our lives.
Life is not reversible. Hurricane victims will always have lost everything. Those in Rwanda during their genocide will always have that as a part of their human experience. The hurtful words I've said have left my mouth for good. People have been stained.
Life is redeemable. Displaced people will find homes. Distraught countries will find peace. Wrongdoings will be forgiven. We don't know how or when, but every moment of life is redeemable. With love as bright as the blood of Christ, we are covered and made beautiful. We are stained, but the stains are redeemable. We can be stained beautiful like glass.
*Stained glass image by Sergiy Shkanov.