Elbow

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"Elbow"

August 9th, 2010

By Rachael:

What a privilege to be able to debate the word of inspiration. "Elbow" or "anthropology." They had to make a quick decision. Don't they realize that where they stand there is so little in their way? Full bellies and a warm bed. Two people together.

How is it that the weight of the brokenness of everything doesn't crush the simple pleasure? And yet... they keep the warmth of prayer reserved for just those things. Wounds too deep to heal, sadness that has no outlet nor a lid to keep it contained. In the folly and laughter of free writing games, their rivers flow deep and slow.

They will read the privilege of the moment, the luxury of toying and playing with concepts and ideas. After all, no one is hungry. No one is brokenhearted. The pleasure, that simple, basic pleasure of human expression sustains the weary. This is their secret to satisfy the hunger in their souls.

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By Michael:

My elbows are trying to tell me something... Lightning storm perhaps? Tornado? Hurricane? "Don't do bunny hops on BMX's or roller-blade through tree branches if you're over 35?" Or are they telling me something about balance?

It used to be only one elbow that would complain. Like an old mother-in-law who felt robbed of her son, it has something to say. What do I hear? I hear a story of fun and adventure... a nursery rhyme from an old man in a rocking chair who is animatedly telling a tale to his young audience. These are the fruits of a lifetime of careful planting and harvesting.

They don't believe a word he says, and he doesn't care. Only he knows that every last word is true. The smiles and laughter on the delighted faces of unbelieving children are his reward.

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