I was raised a Roman Catholic as were we all in my parents’ house. When we each reached adulthood, our mileage varied somewhat in a variety of areas to include activities more traditionally associated with Sunday mornings.
I mention my history as a sort of disclaimer because I have in the past sometimes confused people with what I think is a delightfully waggish, if not puckish, sense of humor that seemingly less discerning fellow travelers feel is not respectful of their and others’ beliefs.
Which sometimes pains me as I see myself as being the epitome of tolerance in areas of personal belief (the important word being personal). Quite frankly, whatever works for you and/or yours is fine with me. I am so laidback on this topic that, from a distance, I appear comatose. That is more or less by design, if not technically my design.
But, intending no disrespect to whatever religious beliefs you have, this is an amazing story (I’m thinking Olivia doesn’t much like the Reverend) and I offer that assessment keenly aware that in terms of wealth accretion the Roman Catholic Church has quite a financial portfolio history since undergoing therapy to better cope with that fear of passing through the eye of a needle from a long time ago.
More recently there’s been talk of updating references to Early Bird Dinner since the marketing cats and kittens at Corporate are concerned that Last Supper is a bit more End Times than they’d like. So have a seat next to Creflo, grab a plate and hope it goes around.