Spiritual But not Religious Musings 

by Susan Agee Borland, Poet Laurette of the Blunt

My Religion  

Part 1 

I was just drifting to sleep when I heard my parents fighting. It was mostly my mom raging at my dad. I thought maybe if I got up and went into the room they would stop. It was true for a split second when both looked at me, Mommy was frozen, and Daddy was swaying unsteadily. 

“Go back to bed, honey,” he said.  “Don’t you speak to her!” Mommy screamed. 

I heard a scuffle as I crawled back to bed. I peered out the window in time to see my dad stumble out of the house and down the walkway. The end of his cigarette glowed as he walked to his car and drove away. 

Later that night I had a dream of war. I guess I knew it was a big fight with a lot of people divided by their uniforms. Dad had fought in WWII, and I’d seen pictures of him standing by the famous bomber Supine Sue. In my dream, a war was just beginning with the two lines of opposing uniforms facing each other. I felt deeply responsible for stopping it. Surely, they would not shoot a child, I thought. I could walk between the lines preventing them from firing. But then I realized that my own uniform would put me on one side. There was only one way. So, I took off all my clothes and walked down the long path between two lines of soldiers.  

I was 3 or 4 years old that night. It was my first experience with right and wrong, guilt or innocence.  I had eaten from the fruit of knowledge and didn’t understand.  

A Little Piece of Heaven 

I was leaving the grocery store and paused for the cars coming and going. I noticed an elderly couple also moving toward their car. The man was pushing the cart with one hand and holding his wife’s hand with the other.  I couldn’t help wondering at holding hands at their age. I looked up and the man said “So many cars going nowhere!” I smiled and remarked how many people had moved to our area. The woman smiled and spoke in absolute gibberish as she patted my hand. I smiled, patted her hand which was still on mine, and said “I agree with you.” 

The cars cleared and the man again took his wife’s hand and said, “Come on sweetie, it’s time to go home.” For some reason, I felt the Lord shining on them.   

Can you understand that I want heaven to be like that?  No matter what my human self is, God will take my hand and say, “Come on sweetie, it’s time to go home.”