Friday, June 20, 2008


I met Kyle on the interstate north of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

He is a young man with a naive view of the world and upper-class sacred stars in his eyes.

Kyle grew up in a warm, protective loaf of Baptist-white Wonder Bread.

Until he met me, he was convinced that every flaw in the social structure of the United States wasn't any Christians' fault.

He thinks otherwise now.

Kyle drove me north from OKC to Wichita, Kansas.

When we arrived in Wichita, he called every shelter that was listed in the Yellow Pages.

We even called the Salvation Army and the police department.

No one would open their door to me and none of the shelters had room to keep me...even for one night.

In the end, Kyle drove me out to a travel center and left me with a Big Mac and a prayer.

When I finished eating, I walked out to the highway and smelled sulfur in the air.

That's when I knew that I was in Kansas...where some big storms, like Kyle's new dose of reality...were about to hit us hard.

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