Good Friday to You, Too

There was once a lad growing up in a godless university city much like the one in which I reside. His parents denied him the spiritual benefits of Bible tales, Original Sin coloring books, scary Satan stories, and other fundamental instruction in the local religion. Nonetheless, he picked up on one of the religion’s major symbols: the cross.

He wanted a cross himself, so his mom helped him build one. It was made of some left over pieces of cabinet molding. When it was done, He carried it over his shoulder up and down the block. Eventually, one of the neighbors said, “Hey, that’s a nice cross you’ve got there.”

“Thank you,” the boy said. “Now all I need is a little guy to hang on it.”

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