54 The Meadow God’s Judgment Jory Mickelson What if we’ve gotten the judgment of God wrong all this time? Light Implacable, yes, that works its way surely across the narrow valley illuminating every last blade of grass, every corner in the closet of every house finally and rightly— all that sure gold light. Yet, it doesn’t burn, no spotlight or interrogator’s lamp, nor focusing lens held up to sizzle, no, but something more like the easy light of a barn and God’s judgment less cruel than we’d imagined. Something more like each of us showing our beloved cantankerous heifer at the fair, which we have so carefully washed and trimmed, bedded in sweet hay—not set for condemnation at last. But to show off & display our hard effort, even if we, prideful, stand before the judge saying look how many hours
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