Come and See.

Uncanny circumstances continually land me in Church. As I did my morning stretches, a few flakes of snow began to fall from the sky. On my way to the Gym, it became a full-blown snowstorm. Cars were lined up in the parking-lot of the church and I'd suddenly realized that I'd left my gym-pass clipped to my keys which were hanging cheerily off my apartment's mail-slot where I had hung them so that they didn't fall out of my pocket while I stretched. Cold, unable to enter the Gym, and in time for service, I entered the Chapel I had donated a few mornings and my unmailed Scones to. I often go there as it's small enough to allow me to ask for the minds of spiritual and surprisingly unbiased people to be lent to my own so that I may weigh concepts with them.

Furthermore, the intensive discussion on Pol-Pot and Bosniak Genocide really convinces me that the Chapel is not brimming with idiocy or sheep, which reaffirms that I am in the company of sound minds.

Anyways - I sat down in my snow-covered shorts with headphones around my neck in this sparse room of people in their Sunday finery and I listened to a reading from Revelations regarding the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. I wanted to discuss my Military Service, but I think I might have to do that tomorrow, on my way to deliver the postcards and letters I've just put together. Instead, after service, a tall, thin man in glasses approached me and I wound up talking about love crossing faiths.

He agreed with me.

It made me exceptionally happy.

I never fail to leave bolstered and intellectually stimulated, which is surprising to me.
I suppose I've never found that in a Chapel's community, as I've only been to large communities.
Crowds always seem to dilute knowledge and interpretation as crowds have a mentality of their own.

...Before I begin seeming the zealot though, I will just reaffirm that I will do my best to do right by others, and tell you that I am leaving to play in the snow, which has quickly become sleet, my favorite kind of weather short of rain.

Cold. Sticky. It's like refrigerated rice from the clouds.