Wish the minister luck, too.
For the first time in eleventy-seven weeks, all the Superior children are home on a Sunday morning. We are going to church, all of us.
Last time I went to a church around here, I ground my teeth together so hard at the horribly skewed (and damn near completely erroneous) message that I couldn’t each beef jerky or crunchy corn-based products for nigh on two weeks. Wish me luck.
Because sometimes, you know, I really would like to find a church to call my own besides The Church of Superior, whose motto is, “Where every Jett feels at home because they are!”.