Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Undo-able Thing
And I have been thinking about dignity, about this woman sleeping on the streets like a dog, with the dogs, and of the beauty that lay sleeping and curled inside her. Inside one of the poorest countries in one of the poorest cities, one of the poorest women slept outside our door on the ground, full of worth and goodness, and nothing she had done, and nothing the world had done could diminish the truth that rose from her: that dignity had been fused to her soul. She could not be unmade from being made in the image of God.
Try as we might in our pride and judgement, there is no undoing of worth, no undoing of the mercy of God’s goodness grafted to the roots of a heart. Because when all else is gone, left forgotten and rotting in the gutter, dignity remains immovable, inseparable, ever fixed and alive, pulsing in the dirt and lashed like an anchor to the truth that set it down.