Dear Lord, nothing

Dear Lord, nothing

really happened that I said happened. The time I drank Kerry’s holy water when she wasn’t looking, I really didn’t feel holy. I never saw what I said I saw behind the holy of holies purple curtain I snuck behind at the church next door. And when I made my brother kill all those ants so I could trap their souls with my fingers, I didn’t feel fluttering like I said I did. The time I spoke in tongues, I made it up and I told the priest I tasted blood, but I lied. And now my son tells me there is no God or Heaven or souls. He asks how can anyone in their right mind believe. He says just think about it long enough.

Dear Lord, when he was little, I should have just told him the truth, that talking to you is preposterous, that you are as likely as unlikely, that Jesus took the cup and we have no idea in hell what he really said and that the sheep and angels are a story that you wrote one day when there was nothing else to do.

Jeanie Tomasko