“After the joy and satisfaction of knowing that I am his by rights—and his forever—I will slip into the background. In short be a lost life. Lost in Bill’s. “ Ruth Bell Graham
When I was a child I heard the screaming outside
the gates my medical missionary parents sealed
like a wound—and that was also joy. I wanted
to stay there all my life. Of course,
I met Bill
in college and he circled
my finger with a ring of no uncertain
terms, unforgiving size.
Once when a fever came he sent me
to the hospital, left to preach a revival
combing sinners loose from the dusty pews.
The nurse opened my candies for me,
I ate each chocolate and caramel
and then had to vomit.
Like a small death
the closing door
and you through it
my children only saw the open
Bible and lit bedroom lamp,
my smiling face.
I’d hoped to go to Tibet.
I wanted to choose what I’d give up for the
Lord; I thought it’d be this.