A.G.E's Joint

  I was spending my morning doom scrolling Facebook. It's a bad habit and unproductive, I know. But it allows the time to pass while I drink my morning pot of coffee. I flip past a repost of a Garrison Keillor interview. I'd seen it before. It made fun of a church  I used to be affiliated with. The reason I'm no longer has more to do with internal politics than scripture. Down at the bottom was a post from a Faerie past who had moved on because of a specific faith issue. For no apparent reason, she reiterated her position in no uncertain terms. As I was debating whether to respond, my wife informed me it was time for her to go to work and the post drifted away into the timeline of doom. Ain't that a kick in the head. I've been thinking about it all day and it may have been sheer luck I was called away. My reply would have only furthered the break existing between us and better she stays in my past.  It's better than being called a turkey. 

I had a dream the other night. It was not unlike other dreams. Light fog backlit with the sun stretched across a verdant field, a pasture really. But no horses or cattle grazed amongst the grass. Instead, the landscape was dotted with churches. Not small chapels these, but great huge behemoths. Alternating buildings of brick, clapboard and glass with steeples spreading upward toward the sun hoping for favor from above. Congregations of bees flowed to and fro between the churches. They held the pollen and nectar, but they could never decide which was right.                                         Curiosity is lust for the mind, so I floated over scene this much like the bees of the congregation. I entered the first church, with its stone edifice standing proudly, with trepidation.   I am ...