myopic pilgrim

My Baby Son: goo goo ga ga
She said: Oh my, I can hear your son.
I said: I’m holding him while I talk to you.
She said: Oh, are you babysitting (your son)?
I said: Um, no. This is my own son.
She said: Yeah, but is your wife out then?
I said: Nope. She’s in the house doing things.

I should’ve said: Nope. I’m just, you know, being a father.

He said: Is that a rainbow on your bag
I said: Yeah, it’s from Hawaii.
He said: Isn’t the rainbow the symbol for the gay community?
I said: Oh, I don’t know. Is it?

I should’ve said: I thought it was a symbol of God’s promise to not flood the earth again.

We (and by we, I mean my wife) have had two miscarriages. The person I’m talking to has had none.

He said: I hear congratulations are in order!
I said: Yeah, I guess the planets aligned for us.
He said: And how are you guys doing?
I said: We’re doing all right.
He said: Just all right? Come on, now!
I said: We’re just being cautiously hopeful.

I should’ve said: Well, you know how it is. Remember how you felt when you lost two pregnancies? Oh… I guess not.

He said: I just don’t think churches have to compromise.
I said: We figured Jesus is enough of a stumbling block. Why place other obstacles there like a name no one understands.

I should’ve said: Also, we feel freedom to compromise on things we’re allowed to compromise on. You know, styles of music, styles of dress, circumcision, meat sacrificed to idols.

Them: Hey, you didn’t capitalize the Y in you when you referred to God. Why don’t you want to honor God?

Me: Believe me. I’ve dishonored God worse than this. I’m pretty sure he’s more concerned that I haven’t ministered to the imprisoned, the orphans and the widows.