My Journey to God

The Alabaster Jar

It stands on the shelf,
The alabaster jar,
Filled with sweet nard,
Waiting, saved
For the Holy One.

Head covered, wrapped in purple,
Hands shaking,
The valued ointment is
Taken down with care.

He is near,
His shadow passing the door.
Heat and dust blow in
As others follow.

The alabaster jar
Now rests in nervous hands.
Bracelets jingling,
As the watcher waits for His recline.

Softly walking, almost crawling,
Jar seal broken,
Tears falling on holy feet,
Hair drying the wetness away.

Room filled with the scent of perfume.
Sins forgiven
As the Holy One is bathed in the
Contents of
The alabaster jar.

By Trudy Bledsoe

(Trudy Bledsoe is a member of St. Christopher Parish in Indianapolis and the Order of Secular Discalced Carmelites at the Monastery of the Resurrection in Indianapolis.) †