Why, look who’s here! How glad I am to see you on this sorry day. Come on in, honey and git you a chair. Let me turn that TV off—it ain’t doing one thing but to make me low in my spirits. No, it ain’t my story – I was watching it and it was going along and just when Brad was about to tell Helen the truth about him and Ashley, the news people broke in telling about all them folks shot somewhere – another mass shooting, they said, looking so solemn.
Then come another somebody talking about how many of these shootings there has been and how many has been killed and I tell you, honey, it purely made me sick to my stomach.
And I stayed put watching and then there was all these folks talking about praying for the folks out there. And then the mother of one of them what died in still another shooting come on and says as how prayers ain’t enough, that the government need to do something about all these powerful guns and all these crazy folks getting ahold of guns. Now, there ain’t nothing wrong with praying, if it makes a body feel better, I reckon. But it seems to me that if the Lord wanted to stop all of this, He would. Just like He could stop stop war and cancer and children dying of hunger . . . And I don’t believe He’s up there laying back on a cloud and waiting for a certain number of prayers before he passes a miracle. No, I don’t believe that, not of a loving father. But if He is a loving father, like the preachers say, why don’t he just fix things, once and for all? I reckon I sound plunb ungrateful. I remember, and you do too, back when I was took so bad after Cletus passed and the doctors had near bout give up, then Belvy and her church came and laid hands on me and prayed fit to beat the band. And I got better, didn’t I? But was it the Lord done it or the power of all those folk around me making me believe I could be healed? Back then I asked my doctor that question and all he would say was that the human body was a mysterious thing and that there was something called spontaneous emission, or some such, that doctors liked to point to when they didn’t have all the answers. Some folks loves to pray for every little thing – Lord, help me find my car keys; Lord, make my husband remember my birthday; Lord, stop that groundhog from eating my garden . . . and I think, why, if the Lord ain't saving people from war and hunger and sickness, what makes you think he'll find your keys for you?