From under the lowest bar, light like a limbo dancer streams out, first a ray, then a beam…
We start building the kingdom from here. Every good deed we do, brick by layered brick, helps the kingdom to come. You sow good deeds, quietly, and in the morning when you get up, the kingdom grows; how, you do not know.
But we do know that good deeds get massacred, thrust into darkness and isolation, abandoned and ignored into the loneliness that seek to stifle their growth. All by itself, we don’t know how the transformation happens.
From a dark place, isolated, rejected, loss, not belonging anywhere, by itself a glow appears. From under the lowest bar, light like a limbo dancer streams out, first a ray, then a beam, then like a lighthouse, a beacon rises to guide the lost souls into the kingdom-home.
I know where it came from: my grandmother’s rosary bead of light, strung around her hands, beading through her fingers by day and by night, never releasing her hold on the cross that keeps her heart open like a warm kingdom-hall to welcome those in need of succour.