Abby's Alley

I’ve thrown out my old contact boxes, storage cases, and eye drops. I’ve folded my glasses, slipped them into their pouch, and stored them under the bathroom sink. And I’ve got my eyedrops calendar on the kitchen counter and my CareCredit monthly deductions scheduled to come out of my bank account every month. Just like that. A forty minute free consultation, a trip to Rite Aid, a week of fish oil and artificial tears, a few days of steroid and antibiotic drops, a pre-op exam, and a surgery—if you can even call it a surgery. The operating time lasted no more than 20 minutes and I was awake and watching the entire thing. Lasers. On my eyeballs. Weird. I have yet to feel the impact of the procedure. After all, I’ve merely  eliminated  putting in and out contacts every morning and night. This isn’t like Gretchen Stevens getting a cochlear implant or Jesus’ healing of the blind man. Post-op, my eyes see just as well as they did when I wore contacts, slightly better actually. How

The Bible is hard. Its world is so different from ours. We don't wear togas. We don't sacrifice animals. We don't have kings or priests. We don't have prophets that we call upon to learn God's will. We don't see blind beggars or hear of people with leprosy, at least not in SoCal. We don't use the words sin or blasphemy. And just about anyone could claim to be God and not be put to death. They probably wouldn't even be institutionalized. So I'm searching for symbols or traditions or rituals that can steep a child's thoughts in preparation for the truth. It's like singing the alphabet so that the child can learn to read. Or teaching them to count so that one day, they can do algebra. But what are the numbers and letters of Christianity? It's all mixed through the Jewish traditions. Can I ever present symbols more vivid than slaughtering a sheep on the alter? Or modernize the unleavened bread used to play-act a sojourners'  quick d