We met Jesus at his gate. My little daughter was so excited she ran up to him & clung to his legs. He put her little feet on top of his big feet & continued to walk forward wheeling his luggage, while she squealed like a parrot.
His suitcase was brand-new & shiny, and it had a piece of purple duct tape on it — JHC, his initials. His carryon bag looked like it had been trampled upon by a multitude. Jesus looked… tired & dusty.
Not what I expected. Always, always, always use waterproof mascara. One never knows when one might find it necessary to cry.
He couldn’t believe what people were doing with his name. The worst kind of identity theft, he called it. Jesus knew swear words that hadn’t even been written yet.
He had a work ethic nobody could fathom. But superhuman, no. He functioned mainly on coffee and chocolate and weed, just like the rest of us.
Kimberly Townsend Palmer 