How do you rate your Holy Communion Bread?

I love my father.

And by father, I mean my Dad.

Not the big man upstairs.

My Dad cracks me up. 

He's elderly, 80 years old, and he'll say anything.

I've posted about him many times before.

Yesterday we had lunch together.

And he was telling me that the bread he had during communion at his church was fabulous!

He said it was from "Panteries."

I eventually figured out he meant, "Panera's."

"Dad, how did you know it was from Panera's?" I asked.

"Oh, I asked."

So, apparently my dad enjoyed the Holy Communion Bread so much, 

he asked the minister where he got it.

I can only hope he waited until the Service was over to ask.

*   *   *   *   *


Also, he's waging an epic war against the electric company, 

although they may not be aware of it.  

He's determined not to use A/C or Heat...

to see how low he can get his bill...

constantly trying to outdo himself. 

This last month?  

His electric bill was around $26.
And despite the fact that we're hitting BELOW FREEZING at night now,

he still has not turned on his heat.

Please, don't let me end up in the Bathtub.

My elderly father, who lives with us, is church shopping.

And I think he's found one he likes.

He asked me if I'd heard of these things called "missions" where church members go on trips to help less fortunate people in foreign countries.

Yes, Dad, I do believe I have heard of such a thing.

Well, he thinks it's a great deal, a cheap way to go on a trip and see the world...the less fortunate side of the world.

"But, Rhea," he said. "I don't want to end up in that bathtub."

Excuse me? What bathtub?





Apparently he meant the one at the front of the church, near the altar, where people are baptized.

I don't know why he fears the tub, but he does.

He's a strange one.

UPDATED: The Jesus Billboard & a Theory on Chickens.

Every day, as a I drive down the highway to work, I pass a huge billboard that reads:



And at the bottom it asks you to text your answer to a *####.


The advertisement is for a church.
And I wonder...what kind of responses they get?

Some answers I thought of were:

a God.
A son.
A carpenter.
A really cool dude.

I'm tempted to text an answer that might not be kosher.
hehe


I'd love to have a giant billboard asking a big question like that,
just to see the answers.


Questions like:



What is the Meaning of Life?

or

Which came first, the Chicken or the Egg?

or

Why did the Chicken cross the Road?





I'm not obsessed with chickens, I promise.
Although, I used to have to close the chicken coop every night growing up on our ranch.



I remember my dad wringing a chicken's neck once,
and it ran around with it's head flopping for a few minutes,
which traumatized me for life.



My 12 yr old son informed me a chicken lived one whole year running around without it's head.

Huh.

Maybe if it was an ALIEN CHICKEN.

Come to think of it.
Maybe all chickens are aliens.

Oh! Maybe that's the answer I'll text to the giant billboard tomorrow.

Jesus was an alien chicken.


What would your answer be to the Jesus Billboard?
If you could put a question up, what would you choose?


I think I'm going to go take my meds now.


UPDATE: I tried not to have a wreck while reading the billboard backwards on my way home. I found the number and texted it my answer.

Then black helicopters showed up in the sky and followed me home...

the First Un-United Church of Flushable Faith

In this small town, north of Dallas, people always ask me what church I go to.

They don't ask IF I go to church...they ask WHICH church.

I answer that I don't go to church.

And, I'm met with silence.

I think I need a more witty response.

Perhaps I should tell them I'm a follower of the Church of Flushable Faith.

What do I mean by this?

I found religion in the bathroom at age three. I asked Jesus into my heart while on the crapper.

You see, I grew up in an agnostic household but attended parochial private schools my whole life.

My extremely religious grandmother took me to church when I stayed with her. It was on her toilet that I "found" religion. She turned it on pretty heavily when I visited her over the summer or holidays. I think maybe she came on too strong, because...

...when I gained a few more years of maturity under my belt, I changed my mind.

This was due in part to the fact that I was informed my parents wouldn't be admitted to heaven if they didn't accept Jesus into their hearts. WHY, I cried. Why? My parents were good people. They were fair and just. They deserved to go to heaven too. It didn't make sense. So I left Jesus behind. He didn't fit into the way I saw things.

I have since learned religion comes in all shapes and sizes, people believe different things and interpret things all ways. BUT, the biggest problem I have is with faith. How do all these people have it? Are they just stupid to blindly believe, or are they smarter than I am & get something I don't?

I don't know.

I have no answers.

I want to believe. It'd be nice to have a cushion around death. Is that what drives people to Faith? The desire for an explanation, security, a surefire afterlife?

How do you believe in something you can't see, or feel, or touch? I believe in Gravity. I see proof of its results. Can you convince me of your faith?

I am tolerant of most religions and respectful of people's beliefs...but I don't completely get it.

What do you believe? How do you BELIEVE IT? What clenched the deal for you?