Last Sunday, in the morning
around 10 AM, my doorbell
rang. What in Hell? It’s bloody
Sunday, supposedly a day of
peace and quiet serenity. All
I can say is, as troubling and
difficult for me to get up out
of my recliner and hobble to
the door, there better damn
well be a fire or a dire emer-
gency to rouse me at this
or any other time of day.
For Christ’s sake, it’s
bloody Sunday, don’t you
know? And the doorbell
rang again. And I raised
my voice to yell out,
Damn it, hold on, I’m
coming! And when I
got to the door and swung
it open, there stood two
young men, one black
and one white, smiling
as if we were best of
friends. What is it? I
spoke loudly enough
to be heard over my
barking dog who was
annoyed as much as I.
Yes sir, the lead young
black man said, We’re
from a church nearby…
Now granted, it was
gratifying for me to
see racial equality at
work in my neighbor-
hood. I certainly could
appreciate that. But to
discuss religion with
strangers on a Sunday
or any other was not
in my nature. Don’t
get me wrong, I was
happy to see the two
races represented in
harmony. If I believed
in God, I am sure his
professed holy deeds
were at work here,
and that was enough
religion for me. So,
instead of some
wise-ass, snarky
remark (and over
my dog’s disturbed
bark), I smiled and
said, Thank you.
I’m not interested.
Have a pleasant day!
They smiled in return,
and went on their way,
I’m sure to find
some other worthy
soul to save.
And I, just another
lost soul, hobbled
back to the
comfort and security
of my recliner and
resumed watching
an MA rated movie
on TV.
For me, it was just
another one of those
regular unproclaimed
holy days of the week.
-30-
Chris Hanch 6-14-2021
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