But Love has pitched her mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.
- Yeats
The place of excrement. That is where we are this summer. How do we walk through excrement and keep clean in the heart? How do we become whole by being rent? This summer is not the first I have walked through the place of excrement and found love's mansion there. Indeed, we are more likely to find it in the place of excrement than in the sterile places. God comes where there is pain and brokenness, waiting to heal, even if healing is not the physical one we hope for.
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