Love Thy Neighbor

Form.  I can now respect it because I am at the point at which the slope of craft unfolds in a rolling wave – a lush Brisanchu knoll of light and deep shades.  But before reaching this unexplored scenery, I had to die.  And before that I had to know the God within and without were one. And yet, before even that struggle wrought by youthful temerity, desperate groping and inchoate spirituality in the seven-year crepuscular dome, all culminating in one terrifying moment in Hengyang; I had to love and trust a God I couldn’t even feel, but for the myriad wonders of the world, believed in.  But I know not this to be the absolute order.  I know it as the order in which I experienced it, and all anyone can ever reveal is what one knows for oneself.

And on the seventh day he rested

As I lay awake and confessed it:


And ominous,


Dragging my toes curled under to catch the wet blades of grass I outstretched my arms and looked skyward.  A bird-call came out that exuded the concentrated disgust and elation I had felt warring in my gut for the whole stormy afternoon.  I flashed a sincere smile to the neighbor looking out of his back window as a lightning bolt warned him to stay put but beckoned me to dance with the skies.  He doesn’t see me but an apparition.  I was struck mid-mad-twirl that I was normal, with no secrets, and professed my love for He-That-Giveth-Rains.  I may never be accepted by my supposed brothers but would eternally be by my Brothers.

What is really causing the neighbor to watch me from a faraway and safe place?  The question is rhetorical in that I don’t want to really know the black thing, repeating faux pas from a reckless past, because not even a healthy downpour can cleanse one of that cancer. We two are writing our proverbial novels and the only difference is that I know I’m making conjectures: one grand theory, i.e. a bunch of funny stuff, but nothing to bet even a dime on.

As the droplets increase in size and decrease in temperature, I pick up a shoe that a fox had its fun with that morning and pitch it onto the porch aiming for the screen-door catcher’s mitt.  Whoever was up to bat struck out but I didn’t even puncture the screen.  Soaking dress and I head into the dugout –a sizeable house I have to sit until the precious baby sells.  I like the way God thinks.  A vacant house plus a faithful transient girl equals the obvious solution.  Why can’t my fellow countrymen, in their trusty language of logic and spoken charity, see things this simply?  That’s another rhetorical question that I’ll leave for the time when I am warned and the thunderclaps summon my frightful neighbor to the stand.

© 2011, Amaya Engleking



  1. Awkward Babble · June 13, 2016

    Beautiful and fascinating, as always!

  2. Saturated In Seattle · June 13, 2016

    Freedom like this is a gift! Though offered to all, only a few choose it and dance with it and live whole-heartedly in it–knowing it is the very breath in our lungs. It fulfills; sustains even in an empty house, even in the curious stares of others, even… Freedom smells like rain, at least today. Love this post!

    • Gospel Isosceles · June 21, 2016

      I was thinking about your reply today as our valley had a good high-mountain soak (our ‘monsoons’ usually only last a few minutes in the afternoon, but this was a good few hours with thunder, as the babies slept:) Seems like another world in which I wrote this post five years ago, but that rain-dancing, praising, crazy gospel freak is still in me, and it’s good to know the rain stirs her up!

      By the way, I don’t know what happened, but I realized yesterday that I wasn’t ‘following’ your blog anymore. I re-followed, but arghhh, computers!

      • Saturated In Seattle · July 1, 2016

        Ahhh—if you like the rain and thunder storms, you’d love Washington. I’m sure we’re known nation-wide for our rain! Its been awhile, but I usually drag one of my girls outside with me to dance and slash in the puddles. The smiles this provokes are completely unmatched and are permanently etched in my mind’s eye! Rain is so good for the soul (hence “saturated in Seattle”)! I am sure you will have many of those moments with your own girls and they will become some of their most treasured memories too!

  3. Misggrace · June 13, 2016


  4. Roberta Pimentel · June 16, 2016

    Awesome! 🙂

  5. Shattered in Him · February 3, 2017

    I love the way your mind works! Truly unique and stunning in perspective.

    • Gospel Isosceles · February 3, 2017

      Hi my friend! And what’s funny about this is that the literal neighbor who wished he could just go back to his evening post without this crazy girl dancing in the storm next door was actually my high school trigonometry teacher. He didn’t remember me, I take it. Must’ve been the wet hair 😉

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