The doll with the X’s for eyes. A long shift and an open mouth. Comes from the shadows. Walks towards me with arms outstretched. Her shift turns from white to pink to light blue at the bottom. Her tiny feet shuffle as if someone is pushing her, holding her shoulders firmly but steadily from behind.
She, this rag doll, is blinded by pain, so sharp, so precise. Her eyes go blank, are blotted out and she cannot see. Is blind.
But she recognizes warmth in the middle of it all. Barely but instinctually. A flicker of a lamp post, but still it is there. Lit with something…holy.
The middle of her chest glows red. I can see veins and a heart still intact and pulsing. And a yellow light behind all that, golden and flickering. A new force pulling her in, not pushing her from behind. She reaches out, despite the stiffness of the rest of her.
Everyone else thought that she was just a used up rag doll to be discarded.
Throw her in the trash and get a new one. Don’t waste your time cleaning this one up. She’s old and blind and stupid. She really messed things up and only has herself to blame.
She hangs her head but still that heart light glows, does not go out, reaches. Is received, embraced, accepted fully. Waves of comfort turn into floods of love. A bliss so divine, she buckles, darkness flees, and she falls into the embrace.
His embrace. Holy Spirit within her merging into His light. Her eyes are open and they sparkle with the Oneness of the Trinity. A room with a throne and a papa sitting on it. She is just a rag doll, all washed up, but beloved, sparkling, made new with the Family of God.
(c) Nikki Lyn Pugh, 2023
Image: mochilazocultural
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