I saw Jesus at the bowling alley, slinging nothing but gutter balls.

 

Heaven on Earth

by Kristin Berkey-Abbott

I saw Jesus at the bowling alley, slinging nothing but gutter balls. He said, “You’ve gotta love a hobby that allows ugly shoes.” He lit a cigarette and bought me a beer. So I invited him to dinner.   I knew the Lord couldn’t see my house in its current condition, so I gave it an out of season spring cleaning. What to serve for dinner? Fish—the logical choice, but after 2000 years, he must grow weary of everyone’s favorite seafood dishes. I thought of my Granny’s ham with Coca Cola glaze, but you can’t serve that to a Jewish boy. Likewise pizza—all my favorite toppings involve pork.   In the end, I made us an all-dessert buffet. We played Scrabble and Uno and Yahtzee and listened to Bill Monroe. Jesus has a healthy appetite for sweets, I’m happy to report. He told strange stories which I’ve puzzled over for days now.   We’ve got an appointment for golf on Wednesday. Ordinarily I don’t play, and certainly not in this humidity. But the Lord says he knows a grand miniature golf course with fiberglass mermaids and working windmills and the best homemade ice cream you ever tasted. Sounds like Heaven to me.

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From Whistling Past the Graveyard, Pudding House Publications, 2004.