You were preaching on Ezekiel one night in the basement. You asked for comments on the verse you read. I said it sounded like God wanted to be our lovers, like He intensely loved us with a passion, a romantic passion. Almost sensual. Fiery, epicurean. I was embarrassed when I shared that, vulnerable. But my heart like an crazed bird was bashing at the boned cage of ribs for me to scream out the truth it knew . I had never thought about God that way until those words passed through my lips. And it would have been better if I had taken a needle and thread to my mouth and cinched them shut before they did. Because you laughed. Kindly. But you laughed. You blushed. I blushed. At my vulgar interpretation.
"I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood...I said to you "Live!" I made you grow like a plant of the field...you became the most beautiful of jewels, your breasts were formed and your hair grew...I saw that you were old enough for love, I spread my garment over you and covered your nakedness. I gave you my solemn oath and you became mine."