Friday, July 23, 2010

Dear Mother Eve...

Last night, after dropping off Andie and Billy at their gymnastics class, Maya and I headed out on a short  shopping trip. We never made it. Instead, I ended up having conversations with two homeless men. I did what I could to meet their immediate needs (bus money and dinner at Taco Bell), but their faces haunt me. How did they end up in this condition? Where are their families? What went wrong? My thoughts swirled back through time and I had to ask the age old question. However, I was surprised at the conclusion at which my musings arrived.

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Dear Mother Eve,

I am one of the many daughters you have never known. I am one of the many children you could not see on that fateful day in paradise. I am one of the countless descendants damned by your decision. And my voice swells with the dusty cry of generations gone by asking, "Why? Why did you do it?"

When you wandered from Adam's side, did you not know that thousands of your children would someday be wandering throughout the ages to come? Homeless sons and daughters looking for shelter in the most the most despicable of places. Selling their bodies in order to gain a morsel of bread, they are but living skeletons longing for the warmth of a real home.

Flattering words drew you to a forbidden tree. When you followed that enticing voice, did you not hear the cry of millions of your children who would soon be betrayed by that same voice? Empty promises and whispered lies uttered by that shameless silvery tongue continue to break the hearts and wound the souls of your descendants.

You gazed at a fruit and longed to touch it. You savored the momentary sweetness of disobedience and for that moment you were satisfied. But, oh, Mother Eve, could you not see your future children with distended bellies, sunken eyes, and listless bodies welcoming the cold embrace of Death?

But, alas, all my questionings fall on deaf ears. Your own body has fallen victim to the consequences of your transgression and been reclaimed by the dust from which you were once created. You have seen some of the bitter fruits of your sin and with all the strength of a mother's love tried to turn the tide of evil. But you could not.

Today, I can only point the accusing finger inward. I must probe the darkest recesses of my own heart and ask myself, "Is there some sin I now enjoy which will someday cause my children and grandchildren to suffer?" The decisions I make today outline the paths upon which my children will later walk. God give me wisdom to make those paths as smooth as possible.