I Have a Mouth but Cannot Speak

Stage One

There’s nothing quite like the smell of an old church. Perfume from the collective mothers of our congregation fills the air. When I take in their scent, I can see my wife getting ready with her padded shoulders and snake-crushing black heels. The worn cushions atop the wooden pews bring a peace that surpasses understanding. This is a foundational place. Matthew leads the church in worship. Great Is Thy Faithfulness echoes through the aging building. It’s the kind of music that feels like it could anoint us with fire and burn away painful memories. The power of the Holy Ghost manifests in the joining of our voices. God is good.

Seeing him takes me back to the morning of his baptism. I can still picture every detail. The way the sun pierces the stained glass to create rays of holy light. Mahogany Jesus watching over my son from his cross, which rests just above the baptismal pool. The veil pulls back to reveal my son. He’s smaller. Timid. Not yet the man he will become. He hesitates while our pastor shepherds him into the water. He’s terrified of the water. But I know that fear has been overcome. God is good.

Stage Two

 I doubt we’ll ever know the beauty that was present in the Garden of Eden. I imagine Miranda’s handiwork comes as close as it gets. My wife has a way of cultivating something out of nothing. The same way she converted me to the faith, she converts these dead leaves into beautiful arrangements. Succulents of all kinds and colors decorate our backyard. Purples, pinks, one’s with little leaves that resemble bear paws. There’s a dog in the yard too. A lab mixed with a pit. Or a pit mixed with a chow. Or some combination of the four. All I know is she’s fat and old, just like me. It’s a miracle she’s still around. God is good.

Used to be our dog, until her stubborn strength became too much for us. She’s Matt’s now and he brought her along for the holidays. I don’t mind, so long as she behaves. The dog sniffs the succulents, then starts digging up the roots. Never did that before. Get! I call out. I whistle and holler, but she won’t listen. Those are my wife’s plants and by God’s grace they survived the winter. They won’t be ruined now. She only responds to her name. I try to yell her name, but it escapes me. My mouth hangs open for a moment, then two, then three as my thoughts stall. The damn dog’s snout is full of dirt. I can feel the name drifting further away like a plank of wood in the sea. Molly! My wife says. Molly rushes back with her tail between her legs. The name washes over me like a cold shower. Molly. God is good.

Stage Three

The drive from my doctor’s isn’t usually this bad. They need to stop all that useless construction. Things are fine the way they are. All those toll taxes and for what? Just to be stuck on the 417. It didn’t used to be this way. Before all the tourists moved down. There are countless cars ahead of me. I don’t recognize the license plates. I’ve been stopped for Lord knows how long. Who’s honking at me? There’s nowhere to go, jackass. Grant me patience, Father. God is good.

Honking turns to ringing—a vibration in my pocket. Honey? Where are you? What’s taking so long? It’s my wife. I’m on the highway, I should be home in twenty minutes, I say. She asks me why I’m on the highway. I tell her about the traffic, the construction, and the idiot behind me. What grocery store did you go to? She asks. The groceries. I forgot. I apologize and tell her the doctor's appointment and traffic got me confused. I’ll be home soon. Her voice is more frantic. Your appointment was last week. Honk. Traffic moves. Four miles from home. God is good.

Stage Four

The light from my computer is bright. It’s crunch time. There’s a deadline tomorrow so my fingers type away as the incessant pressure to perform pulls me further into a state of blankness. 85 words per minute upon pages upon pages upon pages. The office feels cramped and I can't tell if the AC isn’t working or if I’m catching a fever. A disease. The doctor diagnosed me. Says I should rest and medicate. Well, I’m not tired and why should I have to swallow pills that’ll make me choke? I’m praying and I’m still sick so that just means I have something to learn. God is good.

The screen is so bright. The words are like ants crawling on the page. Only my fingers know what I’m typing. Next time don’t give me such a tight deadline. I have church in the morning; I could be doing church things. They have a prayer group for me. I’m praying. We’re praying, so that just means I have something to learn. Whatever it is, I can’t learn it from here. Dad, it’s time to get you ready for bed. Can’t you see I’m working? I’ll read you a story tomorrow. Dad. You’re retired. It’s late. Let me help. Don’t fucking touch me. I’ll be done soon. God is good.

Stage Five

They     say      the     boy    is my     grandson.    I     see     Matt’s face     on      this     boy.   There     are     more     people.     Shadows     loom     over     my     family.     Stalking.      Dark        suits     in    men.     Pitchforks      in      the     air.     I     can     feel warm      fire   outside     windows      dark.     The Devil taunts.     Great      is    Thy Faithfulness on     this boy.

God is good

Stage Six

I  will      make   him a helper    fit   for          him    Wo     man      Blurred 

 features            black         heels                     Shoulders       shepherd    into

        water    She                   is           all                   snake                   woman

    singing          praise        morning by morning               Fear

        blooms like bear       retired              Groceries       idiot                      almost

home          More       time                      4   1   7                           Prayers       per minute

  Father            grant me                       something                        learn 

          Fear                                         overcome               Miracle                   Soon                

                              away                                                          Get                            

                                                                              alone

  God                                            

                                         is                               

                                                                good

Stage Seven

God

 is