The church’s cross! It must have been the cross that he had heard fall during that terrible night he had slept in the church building. He picked it up and brushed it off, removing the spider webs from the end. Lifting the cross up against his shoulder, he grabbed his backpack with his other hand and walked behind his mother to the front door.
Where to put it? Not on the roof, where Ouima’s ball glistened atop the building in the early-morning sun. He leaned it against the outside wall by the door. There it would be a welcoming sign to all who wanted to worship their Lord.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish