Thursday, November 11, 2004


A few years ago, there was a story about a guy down in South Texas who pulled up in his driveway one night. When he got out of his car, he was shocked to see an image of The Face of Jesus (or maybe it was the BVM, or somebody else. I don't recall.) on his garage door, glowing in the reflection the security spotlight cast off his bumper with the car parked just so.

He showed his neighbor, and the neighbor called some other folks, and half a dozen or so people got a look at the thing that first night. The next day, he took his other car to work, and at nightfall, another little crowd gathered to witness the miracle. Jesus (or was it Mary?) didn't disappoint. Just like the night before, the Heavenly Visage beamed down upon the assembled host. There was probably some falling-down-upon of knees and shedding of joyful tears. If not on that night, then soon, because word spread, and before many nights went by, the visitors began numbering in the scores, pilgrimmaging from miles around. Every freaking night.

I don't know what ever became of that poor guy. Did the faithful finally tire of their devotions and let him return to sleeping at night? Did a dove crap on the bumper just so and free his car from its holy bondage? I had long ago stopped wondering, but the recent election has brought his confounding circumstance to mind.

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