June 02, 2021 Bethel Christian Fellowship

When Christ is Real

When Christ is Real

By Kimberly Eridon


In music

In making music at the quarterly pub gospel sing

In missing making music with others at the pub sing

In books I read that make me laugh

In books that make me think

In books that let me cry

In books I have to avoid because I can't handle what they require

In books I slowly, thoughtfully push my way through

    because I need to learn from them

In the book of Romans where I have been reading the same chapters

    over and over

In shows I watch

In voices of the audiobook readers

In the sound of slamming doors and shouting and swearing from the neighbors

In loud, startling, frantic barks of the neighbors' pet in our pet-free building

In the smoke filling my house from the neighbors' cigarettes

    and the deep coughs it causes me

In the rough and gravelly voice that keeps breaking from all the smoke when I try    

    to sing

In songs I sing along with

In songs I can't sing along with because of the tears

In careful conversation with my parents and their growing fear and extremism

In online work meetings when I am doing a great job

In online work meetings when my brain isn't functioning,

    and I can't even speak coherently

In the voices of the podcasters who help me think about the world

In the laughter I create in others

In hours when my sister isolates herself more and finds excuses not to talk

    until I give up

In the grief we are all living through in a fallen world

In bed when I'm still awake from the pain

In the desk chair where I have to rest after too short of a time standing

In the shoulder that slips out of place all the time when it's irritated

In the knee brace that keeps my leg straight

In frustrating pain in my knee and ankle when I move

In my couch when I am elevating and icing and resting

In the friend who comes over masked up to fix the exercise bike

    that's the only way I can do rehab

In the text from the friend with mental illness who hasn't answered in too long

In the brothers who brought distilled water during the shortage

In the sister who is calling church members like me to help us stay connected

In the pastor who responds thoughtfully in a time of crisis

In times I spend worshiping along with online church services

In words I can't write because there's too much physical pain,

   and I can't bear facing the voice recognition software and all the corrections

    I will have to make

In words I write and the pain that follows and intensifies

    because I just need a little longer to finish

In the beauty of the falling snow seen from inside a warm place with blankets

In moments of creativity

In moments of blankness

In my house where I live alone

In the chair every week when the Squirrel Small Group meets online to share    

    wisdom and struggles and joy with the people of God who have chosen to be a    

    regular part of each other’s lives

In moments when the pain blots out everything

In beautiful places full of soaring carved stonework and stained glass

In the furnace (whether He saves me from the fire or not)

In the years of reaching out for the hem of His robe