an image bearer

tonight on the orange line, riding home from a potluck for international students, i watched a woman wearing a beanie with stones and crystals sown onto it twirl a chain with a pendant at the bottom around and around (like a tire swing from a tree branch) while her other hand fingered a rosary.

the kolar rose up in me and chortled. the sixteen year-old boy in me welcomed a mental onslaught of punch-lines. the mean girl in me felt smug in the presence of the ridiculous weird smelly chick on my train.

damn, i hate those parts of me. i rallied and shooed them away, and watched the woman twirl her chain for about ten minutes. she seemed to be administering a very important mystical ritual on the train car. or on herself. and she was reciting something i couldn't hear. the superior satire i'd been conjuring earlier faded into a surreal kind of respect for this enchantress with the rocks all over her head. she exuded the kind of faith (in something) that moves a person to ignore all pretense & call on whatever odd spirits had won her trust. i mean, if i were a spirit i would want someone like her on my team - someone who was more afraid of me than of appearances.

she was kind when i complemented her hat on my way off the train. "yes, i beaded it myself." respecting her felt a load better than diminishing her. she bears the image of God in some way, and i hate that it takes me fourteen steps before i remember it's my job to honor that.