What, you can’t be serious, who wants to be called naive. She looks at him, this man is crazy, what about your inner self esteem, people will walk all over you, and treat you like a fool. He waits for her to finish. In the middle of her discourse, he hears a baby cry, the call of the heart, it’s a feed me cry, he listens to the child, immersed in the little needs. What he says, can you repeat just what you said. She looks at him as if he had horns coming out of his head, he is ignoring me she thinks.
You called me Naive he says. She is flustered. And you can’t remember what you just said, he adds, that’s exactly it, what do you call that. She sneers at him, looks him up and down, not even good shoes, I wonder if he flosses.
Solomon was reminding himself of the early martyrs, and the troubles they had, and the words of the prophets; they will taunt you, despise you because of me, and do worse perhaps, stay the course Jesus said, it will all work out.
She slams the door, we watches her walk, bitch he sighs. I only encountered the Heavenly Spirit dear; women, they never listen. Stop that, you are judging people again. He rebuked himself. Inside he loved her, dam, love can bring out the worst in us. When we treat it as a gift, maybe, just maybe, we will get to see it’s full potential. He looked up at the Sky, the sun bursts from behind a cloud, cheers…..learn fast he sighed!
