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Like That
(“Christ will come like that,” words spoken by the priest,
upon seeing a peacock strut and show his colors.
From “The Displaced Person” by Flannery O'Connor)

With finest foods and chocolates, a large family
sits around a long table on Easter at a Houston
upscale hotel. Love is here, including for two
new male-female twins of two months.  My own
granddaughter, two and a half years, half full
of M&M’s, from cracked plastic eggs.  She scavenged
them at the church egg hunt and at this hotel.  She
can sense cocoa and sugar any and everywhere.
That’s what Easter is to her so far - cute new dress
and shoes.
               But for me, it was the service on Good
Friday night. Latin medieval music and slow readings
from a gospel about how they conspired, and killed
him. How he cried out from thirst there on that ugliest

Then I remember her story:  One peacock in full color:
a kaleidoscope.

               That’s Jesus, all right, returning
to us:  Unexpectedly, with gorgeous serendipity,
wonder, and more brilliant struts. Never relenting

- Like That

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