on my way to the library

cabot street is becoming my via dolorosa. it is upon this way that i live and, i suspect, it is upon this way that i will die.

my first stop along the way is the cinema, where i hope to connect with Ken the wunderkind magician. over the past several months we've shared snippets of conversation about dogs, accounting and running off to join the circus. though i'm no marco the magi, i suspect that one day our roads will converge. he's out for the evening, so i leave an invite to our patrick party and forget to mutter a prayer.

immediately thereafter i make my way across the walk. an impatient yuppie, vigilantly indifferent to state law, honks and i raise my silver mug in a mock toast. as i pass the italian restaraunt renowned for its peas, mikey (or is it mickey?) appears and compels my second, altogether unexpected, stop. i remind him of our plan to ferry drunks and he promises to join us. as i continue to make my way to the library he chooses to hobble along beside. he reminds me of his shredded tendon and i call him a cripple. after addressing me in the same manner that i address dizzy, he tells me that he has an interview tomorrow at the family dollar. as soon as i break into a smile and offer him a pat on the back he tells me that he has also retained a lawyer. apparently mikey is planning to sue the commonwealth for services that shouldn't be rendered. i shake my head. one step forward, one step back. in the midst of such inertia the only thing i know to do is pray, so i lay my hands upon mikey's grubby sweatshirt, petition God to open a door at the family dollar and leave the other stone in the stream unturned. after "amen" i embrace this bear of a man and realize, in that very moment, that i love him in ways not only ideal but real. he hobbles off and i finally make my way into the library.

but i don't get through the lobby before running into a recently shorn "moppy." he bemoans the sad state of affairs that is bennett street, speaks longingly of past interactions and forwards his blessings as well as his phone number to the tockeys. for my part i confess that sexual sobriety is one of the constraints of Christ that i actually appreciate and remind him that though the coffee has gone cold (quite literally by this point, damnit!) i will still be around. after all, i am landed gentry who works in the area and helps lead a local christian community. upon mentioning the latter i look for any hint of interest, but am unsurprised to see none. with that i fold his number into my wallet, pick up my cold cylinder of coffee and make my way up to the quiet area.

where i now sit, avoiding the work to be done while still doing something that is undeniably important. God, i do not have the energy to walk this road nor the discipline needed to take it step by step. i need your energizing Spirit to keep my feet moving, your incarnate Son to continue revealing the way and your faithfulness to underwrite my faithlessness as i stumble down this via dolorosa.