South Carolina woman sees Jesus in her cheese toast

Dear Jesus: Are you aware that somewhere in South Carolina, a grown woman keeps you by her bedside? In a Tupperware container? Your image, seared into burnt cheese toast, is like a funerary relic - not quite as good as the fingernails of St. Francis or a few strands of hair from St. Theresa; and the receptacle is not as grand as a golden box the Egyptians might use, nor does it posess as much character as a 16th century hand-carved, wooden cup with a cover (a kind of sippy cup for Saints' relics).

Dear Jesus: Did you know this woman tried to sell the cheese toast on EBay? She had no takers for this wonder of wonders, this miracle of miracles. Your image on the burnt piece of toast doesn’t quite translate to cyberspace – the image, you know, didn’t upload. That’s why you’re now in a Tupperware container on her nightstand.

(Did I tell you she was making the cheese toast for her boyfriend - a sort of breakfast-in-bed treat?)

I worry this woman will hold a Feast of Relics and eat you. Does that worry you too?

I know you befriend lepers, prostitutes, madmen, the poor – those in your community infirm of heart, mind, body and material – and surely this woman is infirm, but really, do you think you could do something about this? A little divine intervention? What will you do when mold begins to grow across your face?

Just asking, Jesus, what will you do?

Respectfully,

Bird

P.S. Yes, Jesus, I know – I need to stop watching yahoo news clips. I’m working on that.