Thank you, Bree. It always brightens my day when you invite me to visit.
Well, Reverend, I very much enjoy your company.
As I do yours.
So, have you killed someone?
I’ve always found the treats you prepare for my visits are a reliable indicator of your level of spiritual turmoil. The more exquisite the baked goods, the more anguished your soul. This is a hazelnut chocolate chips scone with currants. So I ask again: ‘Have you killed someone?”
No. It’s just… lately I feel like Job. You know, Job, from the Old Testament?
I’m familiar with the book, thank you. Why do you think you’re Job?
I just feel that God has taken anything away from me. I lost my business. The children never call me and… my friend Keith has left me.
Well, it’s not exactly about boils and dead camels, but I understand what you’re saying. When I complained after I was not accepted in the Yale Divinity School, my father had no sympathy. Instead, he drove me from our lovely home in Connecticut to a dangerous section of the Bronx and forced me to hand out blankets to the homeless.
I see that’s the reason you’ve always been so sensitive to the (x) of poor.
Perhaps. It’s certainly the reason my father was buried in the sport jacket he detested. The point is looking at what is been taken from us is a bad way to go through life. Looking for what we can give to others is far better.