shad

Well. I've just returned from a trip home. Dad had cataract surgery last week, and I went home to ride familial herd. It was...trying. The whole week, the only people I had any contact with were retired missionaries or theological hermits. I got to hear about the homosexual agenda. I got to listen to my mom's neighbor talk about her daily shift on the sidewalk in front of the abortion clinic. I got to hear about how God gave my mom leukemia so she could learn to bless other people.

I got to hear a presentation on the Shoebox Ministry, where people fill shoeboxes with cheap t-shirts and candy and plastic combs and a little bible, and they mail this damp cardboard missile of love off to Aceh, or Sri Lanka. And they include a little note that says "Jesus loves you." He loves you so much that he's giving you this cheap t-shirt, and this bar of chocolate, and these goddamn socks. That's how much he loves you. Not enough to save your daddy who died in the tsunami, or your mommy who held on to you in the top of that tree, held you above her head in the current, held you up until she couldn't, and she died, and you had to be pried out of her stiff fingers. Not enough to save your friends, or your school. And he clearly didn't love the people who are piling up in your town square, rotting and bloating and becoming some dark sickness that will sweep your village next week. That's how much Jesus loves you, little girl. Jesus loves you enough for chocolate.

Basically, I suffered.

So now I'm home.