Middle of the Night

I don't know about you, but every time I see this page I get the sinking feeling of stagnation–an awful word really.

It's late. I've felt the itch to write something.

A friend from long ago came by the house today, a friend from a time when "friend" and "heathen" were simultaneously developing concepts. He was that friend. I suppose I taught him about argumentative religious people.

His first words to me on at the front of my house today were, "I still haven't found Jesus yet, didn't even find him in prison, and I thought everybody found him there." There was a girl with him. She seemed nice in a patched together kind of way with blond hair and thick brown dreadlocks. I didn't look close enough to figure out exactly what was going on with that.

My front step has had a lot of visitors: Jehovah Witnesses, Mormons, Baptist... I must have a front door that begs for a religious discussion. Maybe I've just been home more. Anyway, the gist of the conversation leads me to believe that the old friend on my doorstep is in some way searching. For my part, he's at the top of a long list of evangelistic failures. The first thing I told him was that I was sorry for having been so arrogant when we were kids. I think he had explained me to his girlfriend as the "really religious one."

We talked a little bit about Jesus and how someone across the street from him told him that his Mom was in hell but it wasn't too late for him. We agreed that was messed up. I asked him if he still played guitar. We had a little jam session. He wants to borrow my guitar. I'm not sure I completely trust him to return it. I told him I'd like a few more visits first. He's pretty darn interested. We'll see where this goes.

UPDATE: Lady Maphet guessed his initials. She remembers my friends better than I do.