(For Part One click here)


The Best Theology Lesson I Ever Learned:

On the other side of the alleyway, two books vie for attention inside my tote.  Neither will win. I am sitting on a bench at a bus stop.

It is summer in Florida.  Dandelions dance in the breeze.  Everything is green beneath a blue sky.  With me at the bus stop is a homeless man.  He smells. He is hungry. He talks to himself.  He isn’t waiting for the bus, just stopping to rest.  Soon, he gets up and continues down the road toward the shelter.  The bus comes and I put my last bit of change into the meter.

We bump down the road.  I blink.  All the faces have turned to charcoal and vanilla, like mom’s sketchbook, drawn in as she would capture them, unaware.  The details of their fine lines, scars, and anomalies are celebrated – turned into trophies.  Works of art.  With shading, she adds emotion.  A down turned lip, a weary eye, celebrated.  Crooked nose, enormous ears, thinning hair line – trophies.  Color is added: saffron, curry, chocolate, cinnamon, nutmeg, honey, peach, olive, cream, pecan, coffee, ebony night.  Celebrated. Trophies.  Detailed in her book like a collection of fine art.

We are all the most beautiful beings on Earth.