There is no explanation that works for anyone. Who can explain life adequately to us?

The age old question that stares us down when we are realize we know nothing about life. Why? Is there any reason for the evil that has occurred to me or anyone for that matter. The senseless deaths, the wars of unbelievable savagery and mayhem. Our own thoughts of indecent behavior and revenge against the ones who have wounded us within our very core. Lust seems to fit the thoughts I have. For everything. Power, riches, prestige, fame and the fawning over me by myself. Astonishment that I am not at the least famous, elevated by the very talent I have been given since birth. Music and poetry that flows almost effortlessly.

Why am I seen as so good when I know every day I am not. I envy the man’s wealth that appears to be stealing everything I crave. Even relatives that have finagled my inheritance. The worst revenge is against someone long dead that deserves my curses and at the least, my disappointment and poverty or worse yet, the wounds that lie deep within my hypothalamus.

Fear and anger all mixed together from someone that abused or seemed to want to kill or maim my very being. Who indeed has planted that deadly garden within me?

The blossoms of deadly nightshade that always seem so beautiful and right and beckon me to indulge in a glance and embrace. They bloom once again, deep within me and seem so clear, and yet unknown when they disappear and leave behind wreckage from my speech and thought.

Lately, there have been moments and astonishing thoughts that delight and surprise me with the obvious correct behavior I do. Not my usual modus operandi. Why did I say or do that? The only explanation is a whisper of beauty that overwhelms within. A very quiet and almost still voice that obviously is not usual but is embraced as right and true within my very given core.

“It’s all good. You are weaving the tapestry of things we cannot see. It’s all good.” A.

I must bury myself in the one who died and rose again. I can’t get around myself without Him. It’s the way it is. The creator of all things that is the truth, even faced with evil and wonder.

“What is truth?” was asked of Him many times and yet we listen to the evil that sits close by and whispers to us from the beginning of time. Our freedom to choose life or death given by our creator allows this whisper to once again get in our way and try to seduce with lies.

“Did God really say?” You know who he is. Now listen to the quiet and right voice that is now holding his arms wide open and always loving you. Welcoming you when you turn your minds sight to see him. Put on the robe and the ring indeed for once again we have listened to truth. A sigh of beauty appearing.

I encourage and almost shout it to myself and everyone. Listen and hear the voice of Jesus who loves us.

Jack Gator A. Chris Tofilon photo courtesy of Peterson Garden