For Notre Dame

Because sometimes, even at 3:30 in the morning, I am a good mom.

I can wake, in the middle of the night, and remember to be the Easter bunny.  I can make the baskets and fill the plastic eggs.  Literally, (God I hate that word) in the middle of the night.  Maybe it's not the middle.  What constitutes the middle?

Course, if I was truly a good mom, I wouldn't need to "wake in the middle of the night."  The Easter bunny shit would have already been done.  So in reality, I'm a crappy mom.  A crappy Christian mom.  Damn it.  Ah, Jesus Christ.

All kidding aside, this week was sad.  Haunting.  Surreal.

There are no words.  No way to describe the...the...

I am not a religious person.  And I know that statement pains my mother and likely my father-in-law.  Hell, I am slowly dying and I still haven't found God.  And that's saying something.  (I'm saying something, but probably nothing good).

But if you're reading the news or watching it, you know that they saved precious religious artifacts from Notre Dame.  They formed a human chain and passed historic relics from hand to hand in order to save their existence.

I am not a religious person.  But place me in that chain of (yeah, I'm gonna say it) saviors and I'd find religion.  My husband said it to me, and it is so true...relic after relic, religious or not, someone passes you the believed Crown of Thorns worn by you a faithless person, holding that...

Hell, that'd give you religion.


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