Let My love open the door
Let My love open the door
Let My love open the door
To your heart

I’m such a spaz, hearing God so clearly in this song. Or maybe my daughter’s unabashed, scandalous love cleaned out my ears.

E. Cola Mix done mixed me up. Got me thinking about my family. Not just the ones down the street, but the ones across the state, across the country, across the world.

Stirred me up like a roux. I’m stirred to try harder. Love harder. Love stronger. Forgive more, and more frequently.


That is some heaviness right there. And all that’s needed is an open hand. Letting it go, “inch by inch,” says India Arie. She ain’t lying.

There’s no time left for the hatchet handle I keep grabbing.

The scab stayed fetid and freshly stank because I wouldn’t let ME heal.

Layers up, and layers down.

Sounds so deep, but it was even in the stupid, spilled milk of it. The burnt fried chicken of it. The lost cell phone charger cord of it. Too many little things feeling like metric tons on my psyche.

On my soul.

Screw that. I’ve got to go on. I can’t stay here anymore. This race is heavy enough in track shoes and running pants. The devil didn’t steal anything more than the minutes, but I’m taking them back.

By God, I want to at least. I want to want to take them back.

Already backtracking. Ain’t that some mess?

And then Pete Townshend sends me a message, straight from the throne above.

What a strange worship song.