The nuns at my preschool described Mary as “having never known the touch of man,” and that really gave me a start. Mr. Armstrong at the corner grocery gave me a piece of candy and a pat on the head every Sunday, so I guessed that meant my name was getting crossed off the list. Frankly, I was a little relieved. It was serious business, being Mary. I wanted to be Duchess from The Aristocats.
I got my "fire insurance" when I was in Jr. High, then allowed the premiums to lapse when I was in High School proper. (Thought I was clever for "discovering" the problem of evil. I was only a few thousand years late to the party ... ) I have, though, always loved the final prayer at the moment of death to Mary.
I got my "fire insurance" when I was in Jr. High, then allowed the premiums to lapse when I was in High School proper. (Thought I was clever for "discovering" the problem of evil. I was only a few thousand years late to the party ... ) I have, though, always loved the final prayer at the moment of death to Mary.
You never fail to surprise and fascinate me, Gares. Bravo!