below 14th street

K. is out in search of boots. I am fixed on a bench next to a large window that opens onto 9th St., refreshed by the aroma of a newly cleansed east village. we have been kissed by an afternoon rain. 

two women relax on the other side of the window, steam swirling from their bright orange mugs. A dance of chatter pours from their mouths.

I read and pray, acutely aware that these favorable moments are undeserved. 

I pray for the persons i am tempted to bitterly disregard, reminded of my tendency to curse through a smile. 

K. returns bootless and joins me in the window. we talk of Christ, of intimacy with a sweet savior verses a cultural christianity where the goal seemingly is to be a good person...where Christ is used as a means. 

...

we make our way back uptown.