The stench of Marlboro Lights made its way from the pulpit to the pews. As the rake thin priest gave his sermon, his stench wafted from his white silk robe to the crowd below.
“What this world needs,” he spat as he declared, “is more kindness.”
I don’t know why I chose that moment to speak out in front of a hundred people—I just did it. I guess I’d had enough.
“It’s not kindness,” I exclaimed loud enough for all to hear, stinging from this man’s hypocrisy. “It’s decency,” I continued, adjusting my bra. “People should strive to do good deeds all of their lives. We’ve developed moral codes to help guide us in the right direction, but we are still too focused on other things—ego, money, hedonism—that we lose touch with simply doing the right thing.”
Those words poured out of me that day at Sunday Mass. Here I am, two weeks later, at a bus stop in Texas, thinking the world will never change. But even the desert sands blow through time.
I put my cigarette out with the heel of my boot and get on the bus.
