Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

I went to a meeting with friends from church. They were so pleased to have heard someone say "thank God" on television, so thrilled that "they can't censor that." I refrained from asking what made them think anyone was out to censor it. And I refrained from looking too deeply into why their words made me feel so uncomfortable. After all, wouldn't I also thank God if I were spared from the ravages of a tornado? I went to another meeting with friends who aren't from church. They were so upset to have heard someone say "thank God" on television. What should others say, they asked, who had lost loved ones? Should they blame God? Or maybe "thank God" means "I'm good enough to get my prayer answered, and the rest of you aren't good enough." How cruel, how evil, to pile that accusation on top of pain. They said, "No offense intended, Sheila," and I took no offense. Their comments opened my eyes to why I'd felt

Poor poor kiddy was so scared. Poor child never should have been there. The crowd made him frightened, made him cry, so he pulled a gun and made them die. Poor poor kiddy, not his fault, see, in the land of the brave, in the land of the free.