Raised to know there’s the right way to be, a wrong way to be,
I ask if you came to my house now, what would you think of me?
Should I get my feet off the chair? Should I .brush my hair? Pick up that mess?
But then I ask .if Christ came to my house now what would he think of me?
Would he care about my hair, the chair, and the mess?
And what would we talk about? .that I lack faith?
….That I shouldn’t worry so much?
Might he ask about the pouches under my eyes, the wrinkled brow?
No, I think. But I hope, Yes.

©A Charity HIggins Johnson