The Elderly Lady in the Front Pew

I went to a church once- it was a dry, boring, dull baptist church. I was so bored I counted the tiles on the wall, the elderly people with grey hair versus those with obviously coloured treated hair and I even tried to attract the attention of the gentleman across the aisle. The service was nearing a close and the congregation rose to sing. One lady caught my eye. She must have been nearing 90 years old- and was barely able to stand.Her physical appearance was repulsive-soiled and tattered clothes, blotchy bruised skin and no teeth.

I struggled through this haunting sight. It kept me awake, she captured my thoughts and became the warden of my imagination. These are the first words I’ve written about her. In her repulsiveness I saw her beauty.

The Elderly Lady in the Front Pew

Crumpled twisted hands

Pained fingers straightened

Age spots; torn spots

Lifted in praise

Blue swollen neck veins convulsing

Bulging eyes masked by transparent eyelids closed

Withered; weathered

Teetering on unstable legs-

Captivated in exaltation

A scarred face watching-

Trembling;

Stagnant bruises fester

‘Glorification unravelled…

Grace stained’ meets beauty .

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