Scratching

Would you have found me, Lord, in those fearful and desolate wastelands? You were with me, yes, but would you have called out to me, as you called out to Adam in the garden? “Where are you?” A beautiful question, from a knowing and loving Father. A question more for our benefit, than for Adam himself. Had I not been lead to you by your instrument, would you have pulled me out another way, lead me here by another way? The question should be irrelevant. It usually is. But sometimes, only sometimes, a question that is quaint, odd, meaningless, has purchase. And purchase that runs deep down through your ribcage and right through to the other side of you. You feel it scratching at your spine, and you realise, the question has made it through you.