The night I met God in the drugstore
- Aug 21, 2020
- 1 min read
by Lindsey Heatherly
I met God at the aisle between analgesics and wound care. I was no longer in search for healing, so I settled for superficial repairs. He offered to cleanse me, to save me from myself, so He took a box of Band-Aids, peeled each one apart, and placed them across His skin. He said, “I am the body,” and I asked if He would remember me. “Hush, child,” He whispered, as His index finger brushed my cheek and landed upon my lips. “Healing is given to those who want to be saved.”
Lindsey Heatherly is a writer born and raised in Upstate South Carolina. She has words in or forthcoming in Emerge Literary Journal, X-R-A-Y, Emrys Journal, Red Fez, Schuylkill Valley Journal and more. She spends her time at home raising a strong, confident daughter. Find her on her website at https://r3dwillow.wixsite.com/rydanmardsey or on Twitter: @rydanmardsey.
