Lea spoke to herself as she stood before the altar
where bright red poinsettias decorated the marble steps and electric candles
flickered by the rails.
“So, I’m the villain in this family of whispers or
deafening silence, I’m the troublemaker. All because I pointed out the truth or
tried to keep peace when they knew certain words would trigger my inner chaos.
I don’t call certain people. No, that’s a lie. I
don’t call any of them.” Lea scoffed. “Because if I call one, they’ll be upset
that I didn’t call the other. I stay away and I still feel sorry.
Politics in this family sucks. And I don’t mean the
real politics of the world. It’s the pinning of siblings against each other.
The accusations of cousins in texts and emails. The snickering afterwards that
gets to me. So, I’m not perfect. Then again, neither were you.”
Lea looked up at the eight-foot statue. His arms
were open as a greeting of peace and love.
“They think I don’t have a brain, all because I
believe.” Lea sighed. “But I keep turning the cheek. Makes me wonder, are we
more alike? Did you go through this? I’m here on my own, every Wednesday, by
myself. And you know they’ll gossip. And you know, I won’t care anymore until
next week.”
Lea smiled and inserted coins into the poor box.
That felt good, and that’s good enough.
Photo via T. Gillmore
