“Forgive me Father for I have sinned.”
Inaudible whispering.
“Time since my last confession you ask? Um, is never okay to say?
Deafening silence.
“Well here’s the thing. I’m not technically Catholic. My wife and two kids are but not me. We agreed to raise them Catholic but I never converted. We good?”
A simple head nod.
“Oh great, thank you Father. Appreciate it. Here’s the thing. Yeah I’ve sinned here and there, sure. But this one is kind of big and I’m hoping this doesn’t keep me out of the pearly gates when the time comes.”
A barely audible gasp.
“No, no, nothing like that. But it’s bad. In my eyes at least.”
Gesture clearly indicating to get on with it already.
“Fine. Brace yourself.”
A very audible yawn.
“My bad. You’re a very busy man. Here it is. I’ve embraced the use of … fake plants.”
Pointer finger raised pointing towards the church exit.
“Don’t you want to hear why?”
He didn’t want to hear why.
But I need to let you all know why:
I got sick of watering the ferns or boxwoods that sat in containers near our front entrance. My time could be better spent elsewhere. Yes, that is a fake boxwood but doesn’t look like it, right? Shape is decent and it’s even sitting in real soil.
So no harm, no foul, right?