His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man
OK, that's what I wanted to say.
I've never been really good at quoting scripture. I've read the Bible, more than once. I know pretty much what's in there and do pretty well at Biblical categories on Jeopardy. But when push comes to shove, I have to dig around to find what I want. Before Phyllis died, I'd just call her and she was able to point me in the right direction. Of course there's Belinda and Susan who are only a phone call away. They each have pretty much immediate recall of scripture. Or I can, as in this case, simply Google it. Try it, just put in the search bar these words: psalms, God, men's legs ... and 147 will come right up at the top.
But when I'm in need of it in conversation or debate, my mind goes first vague and then blank. It can be frustrating because I sound like a spiritual illiterate. And as a person with a disability, trust me you need to know your Bible. People keep wanting to pray for me, figuring I'm disabled because of sinfulness. Others figure that God is just waiting for someone to ring the doorbell and ask for my healing. So, routinely, I get approached.
Actually, that's not quite true.
Here in Canada it happens rarely. In some States, though, it happens a lot. So I was taken aback when asked innocently by someone, here in Toronto, yesterday if they could chat with me for a second. She looked like decent folk, and she probably was, but I was startled when the woman asked if she could lay hands on me. Given my, um, proclivities, this is not an experience I've had often in my life. I looked startled and she explained that she had a 'gift'.
I began to slowly back up in my chair thinking, 'Don't look her in the eye ... Don't look her in the eye.' I stammered an answer saying, essentially but not as clearly, 'No, thanks, I'm fine.'
Remember and sing along, 'I'm OK with being me'.
Or, if you don't remember that one maybe, 'Jesus loves me, this I know ...'.
She started to talk about God's love and I interrupted saying, 'God's not into men's legs.' Now she looked startled and started to back up.
A few seconds later with me babbling on about legs ... she was gone.
I don't think I'm saveable.
Except, perhaps, that maybe I already am.