The Sunday School Lesson
We would just be arriving to brunch now from church, Scully seating us at our table under the umbrella on the rotting deck. You would be ordering something that adhered to your diet, and teasing me about ordering my hot chocolate and coffee in the muggy heat. We'd be discussing what we hated about the judgmental church goers this particular Sunday and be picking apart sections of the sermon that we felt could apply to our week. You'd make sure I had ketchup on my plate for my eggs, and then chide me for not eating more when I sat back in my teal wooden chair and put my sunglasses back on to take in the sun.
We would be, but I got in a car and drove to the city, never to return again to the utopia we created, except for three day weekends when I could. Even then, I was always on my phone answering work emails.
What if we forgave? What if we listened to one of those church sermons and prayed for each other? Understood that with love comes tragic destruction by human nature? Believed that one ounce of forgiveness could give us our happiness back, give us back? What if we had the courage to dial numbers we have had to keep ourselves from dialing for so long now?
What if we actually practiced what we preached?
I will if you will.