PRESBYTERIAN IN WONDERLAND

 

Did I make a left turn instead of a right?  This place is the not the austere world of my childhood.  Where are the doleful hymns? The mournful people dressed in grey?  The inflexible rules?  I am a person operating without boundaries and it’s a little frightening.

I can’t remember finding that damn rabbit hole, let alone travelling through it.  Somebody must have pushed me; I wouldn’t have ventured into it alone.  And who would have located a portal like that on the lawn of one of God’s own Elect?  The devil must be working overtime to ensnare the righteous.

Yet here I am, wandering through an alien world.  The worst part about it is that the hallucinations are of my own making.   The cat making no sense, the queen lopping off heads, the crazy milliner presiding over a tea party, any one of them could be people I know.  But now, I cannot respond in the prescribed way.  I’ve been released from my Scottish holding cell and the old rules no longer apply.

Just yesterday, I had to endure the tirades of a prima donna demanding my head.  I could not act the victim, because I knew it was the shift in my behavior that triggered the outburst  What could I do except offer my head and hope that the axe wouldn’t fall.

And that big cat lounging on the tree limb . . . when will he stop grinning and tempting me to be bad?  He plays with words and contradicts himself, yet he swishes his tail and challenges me to climb the tree.    What will happen to my starched white pinafore if I scramble up the trunk and meet him on the bough?

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2 Responses to “PRESBYTERIAN IN WONDERLAND”

  1. "Sister" Sara Says:

    He’ll smile and ask you the soul-searching question that he always asks, “Why are you here?”

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