I don’t know what comes over me. I had a million things to do today, half of which I got done, but something told me that since I’d fixed Jesus, it was now time to deal with St. Joseph. I don’t even go to church, why do I feel compelled to do these things? It must be a combo of residual Catholic guilt and missing my dad. I’ve…
Jesus is in trouble. Ever since my father’s house sold last year, he’s been in limbo. I just found my mother’s treasured 8×10 of him in a corner of my bedroom buried under a pile of partnerless socks. When I moved the sock pile, I discovered my mom’s glow in the dark rosary beads and a St. Anthony plaque laying on top of him. I claimed them all…