Because I don’t know, I keep making up
answers. “Where does God live?” asks eighth-grader
Tommy. God’s everywhere, I say. “That cup
Christ drank from, what happened to that?” Nader
questions. It’s with God, I reply. “That means
the cup’s everywhere?” confused Tommy tries
to reason. Grace butts in, “I’m wondering,
Father, why aren’t you married?” I smile, sigh,
I’m married to the Church. “So then…maybe…”
Mary Ann smiles and bats her big blues, breathes,
“I’m baptized in the Church since a baby,
Father. Does that mean you’re married to me?”
Could Christ’s crown have felt any thornier?
I tell her to go stand in the corner.
Roger Armbrust
June 25, 2010
