Bibles, Bibles Everywhere and Not a Drop to Drink

I've been cleaning out Mom's house this month. It has been a physically- and emotionally-exhausting activity. Many items were given to friends and family. Much was donated to various places. Much has found its way into the landfill, sadly. And much, much, even more sadly, has found its way to my home.

I must thank my husband for his unfailing support and time in all things connected to this job.

In my down time I have been going through Mom's private correspondence, cards and letters, files, pictures, keepsakes of all kinds. I have done quite a bit so far and there is more to do ahead of me. The interesting thing that I have brought home is a large collection of bibles. The b-i-b-el-e. Two copies are the boxed momento-type bibles from other relatives who have died, barely touched books in wooden boxes that Mom kept in a drawer. They smell weird...yeah, those bibles. One white leather-bound book is from a very beloved aunt who died several years ago. One black, serious-looking number is Mom's personal book.

It was in that book that, just about five or six weeks ago I was showing Mom the many passages that mention unicorns, in the undefiled and perfect word of the Lord. Mom was not amused.

Anyway, I find it interesting that I have become the holder of these books, not without a small amount of irony that I have become the benefactor of these items.

The other day my son John and I were looking at one of the books and marveling at the red ink that is purported to be the real words spoken by the Lord. John was almost in hysterics reading those words. Not to mention in awe at the amazing memory of the person who wrote it all down so accurately. But he was never moved. Never touched by anything as exciting as a noodly appendage. 

In fact, in summing up his reading of the red ink, he replied Hmmm, I'm sure that happened.

My Skeptical Lad