Oh Lordy

It's been years since I've stepped into a church for anything more than to cool down on a hot city afternoon in the pale stained glass light. Somewhere along the way, Jesus has become a feeling more than anything else; when I hear the name I think blue sky and hot milk and love; I think goodness and blackberry pie and stopping to talk to your neighbor on her stoop.

But driving from New York to North Carolina, I listened to twelve hours of talk radio. It made me feel ridiculous and naive and angry and not just a little sad. It seems Jesus ain't blue sky to many (K. might yell at me for even thinking it!) but more of a back alley to kick people in their knees.

It makes me think of this dream I had about Brad Pitt last week. In it, he was snorting a heckuva lot of cocaine. The white stuff rimmed his nose. And I said, heartbroken but aloud, "Oh my. I can't believe I've been fooled by the media."