Greetings from the Alamo the old woman by Irwin Schweenie      I was Idling my time away in Southland imports one afternoon. An older woman shuffled in and the conversation that followed has never left me since. She was kind and humble and lonely. Her husband had passed away in the year previous. She told me of their lives together, he was an engineer.. he took her and their children all over the world, building bridges and damns. She said Thailand was her favorite. "We had a wonderful life together" she said. He was tall and handsome and kind. I told her she would see him again, I witnessed to her about Jesus Christ and eternal life through him. She told me She was dying of leukemia, I mentioned a few things She could do to make herself a little more comfortable. We discussed our families, her children, travels, and regrets. She told me to never pass up the opportunity to travel. After an hour or so of this she said her good bye and left, "I wish you were my son." were some of the last words I heard from her mouth. I wish I had embraced her. but I only told her we are of the same father. Afterwards I thought about just what a compliment like that really subsumes. She wished that She had carried me around in her womb for nine months. I would have made her vomit in the mornings, her back ache and ankles swell. Imagine the pain She felt giving birth to me. The worry she would have for me while I was young. She would have spent countless nights without sleep caring for me while I was sick. think about the time it would have taken to teach me, the money to feed me, the pain She'd feel from my vicious words and spiteful acts. That is love, anything less is piss.      I I never saw Her again, I think She is with him now. May you all receive that kind of love at least once in life.

Creed: Some Random Thoughts on Unbelief by Cleo       I grew up in a mildly liturgical denomination—United Methodist. Though the customs and traditions of liturgical denominations may be fraught with meaning for many people, I grew up mindlessly droning archaic words that didn’t hold much meaning for me personally. Though I may not hold the world record for the fastest recitation of the Apostles Creed or the Lord’s Prayer, it’s not for want of trying on my part. I’ve often heard Captain Willard claim that Christians don’t tell lies, they sing them. The longer I live my life as a Christian, the more I believe this to be true. There are a great many things that I should believe, that all of us should believe, that we simply don’t…or at least don’t believe them as fully as we ought. I know I’ve been mouthing the platitudes, the “Christianese” for a long while, but I want to stick my neck out here and separate fact from fiction. I’m going to say what I actually believe most of the time. Maybe you’ll commiserate; maybe you’ll share my conviction. Or, hell, maybe you’ll shake your head and pray for the salvation of my soul, which might not be a bad idea. Here we go, the ugly truth.       I have not sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. The fact is, I think I’m a nice person. Ask anybody who knows me (my roommate notwithstanding), and he/she will probably concur. You know that verse about our righteousness being as filthy rags? I never really bought that. I don’t smoke, drink, or swear…well, at least I don’t smoke and drink1. I go to church most Sundays. I don’t lie, cheat, or steal. Heck, I’m expecting to be elected pope next go ‘round. Of course this is screwed up; of course I’m screwed up. Even the good things I think I’m doing are tempered by a fair amount of self-love, self-righteousness, and self-deception. You ever see a nasty picture of the lungs of a smoker, you know, in anti-smoking propaganda? It’s usually accompanied by the slogan, “Would you smoke if it did the same thing to your outsides as it does to your inside?” Sin is the same way. I think if I can hide it, if my nice Christian friends don’t know or don’t confront me, it doesn’t count. I’m wrong there too.       I’ve always been pretty charitable…in the abstract at least I can manufacture sympathy and love for child molesters and mass murderers. Of course there is a fair amount of moral superiority involved, but I can believe that God loves them too. I don’t really believe he could love them as much as he loves a well-dressed, well-mannered young lady such as myself… The truth is, in ______________________________ 1 Random rabbit to be chased: not that I think that any of these things are the cardinal sins we make them out to be; mostly considering them ganz verboten is part of the legalistic world view that can make me seem like such a swell guy…er, swell girl.