Heart of Stone, Heart of Flesh

At approximately 9:10, a street sweeper whirred down the street headed straight towards the bench, its circular bristle broom scrubbing, washing and vacuuming the street.  I gathered up my knit line and crossed the street until it had safely passed, glad that the line didn’t get tangled up or torn in two this time.  Give Blood Today, a sandwich board proclaimed on the corner of 16th and Taylor.  Our sick neighbor is the director of the local blood donor program.  I saw her walking on the arm of a younger woman to a car, her head wrapped in a flowery turban, and wondered if she was headed down to Seattle for another round of chemotherapy.

Two members of the ladies walking club passed me.

When I sat down to write today, I told myself, I will not write about fear, I will not write about fear, I will not write about fear.  So, I promise to keep this very short.  At the end of my knit, my mind turned to this passage that says “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”  In my mind’s eye, I pictured a heart made of stone, and saw that this is what fear does to the human heart–it literally petrifies it.  And I love this image of a heart transplant, one that’s soft and warm and receptive like the sunset roses I stuck my nose in on my way up the hill this morning.

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