“Eating Strawberries with the Saints” Fiction. Based on a True Fellowship Brunch.

“I wanted to do something different. I wanted to do something closer to my influences.” – Tigercide

“Eating Strawberries with the Saints”

Fiction. Based on a True Fellowship Brunch.

by Suzanna T.

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Eating strawberries with the Saints
Here in the house of faith
Deep in the midst of humble confidence
I desperately try to act like I have a little sense.

Mrs. Bobby who is old and gray
Makes sure the children are not led astray
While Ms. Mindy Fae from Mendenhall tells the story of how she found the nerve to stand up tall.
Mr. William is a broken man
But manages still to warmly shake my hand
Repeatedly he asks the whereabouts of my husband
Forgetting the scandal and what lies above it.
They try their best not to judge me
for the sins that I cannot flee.

We dine in the Hall of Many Feast
I lie my weakness at their feet.
And wonder how I can ever evolve
When my heart of hearts seems to love revolvers
Like the old Westerns –I watch
While pondering the Pastor’s lesson.

From my mistakes, I quickly learn
But I fear my mind will yet turn
Back to bad. Back to Blue.
Though sowing good seeds is what I intend to do.

Careful they are– not to offend.
The Will of God they try hard not to bend.
When my heart is broken, these Saints are always there to mend
And send… me back on the right path.

Experts they are in making their lights shine
So dim is this little light of mine
It’s just bright enough to be seen by the Divine.

My spirit I want to be known
Though the tall, billowing grass calls me home
To wear my individuality is well toned
And my soul is already fully grown.
Where Zion understands my imperfections
And I can get lost between the Old and New Testament.

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