Dear Sister In Christ:

Yes, indeed I do, dear. Although, I must admit, this was not always my plan. Frankly, I was concerned with the deleterious impact siring offspring might have on the width of my petite waist and elasticity of my pert bosom. Having invested thousands of dollars in my "look" as a young school girl, I was not about to lightly part with it. Then, one day, something happened to make me realize that I simply had to have at least one of the little things.

I was ministering to woman who lived in our neighborhood. One day, she was very upset. She was crying up a storm. Her cries and intermittent wheezes were making it very difficult for my recitation of Deuteronomy to be heard. This, of course, annoyed me. Finally, after studiously ignoring her for 4 chapters, I asked, "Why are you making a spectacle of yourself?" She told me she had just that morning come back from the doctor with some horrible news. I told her, "No matter what it is, Jesus will be able to help." She then told me that she had been told that she was unable to bear children. I felt so sorry for her! I reached over to put my arm around her and offered her one of my lovely embroidered Belgian linen handkerchiefs. I then immediately correctly my misstatement by telling her: "Well, actually Jesus can't help you because, as Paul in his first epistle to Timothy tells us, 'women shall be preserved through the bearing of children.' And you can't do that, so no matter what you do or say, you are going straight to hell!"

I then handed her another handkerchief. Then, it hit me! I suddenly realized if she was just going to Hell anyway, it was a total waste of my valuable time to minister to her. If I stopped, that freed up a whole hour every day to study the differences between Louis Treize, Quatorze, Quinze and Seize! This turned out to be a smart reallocation of my time, as the tragic woman, of course, died and went to Hell, but the knowledge of French furniture has proved invaluable on more than one occasion during a tight bid at Sotheby's!

Anyway, as I quickly left the poor, damned woman's house, after retrieving my handkerchiefs and stowing them in a sanitary ziploc bag, I checked my Bible on the offchance I had told the woman she was damned for eternity in error. No, sure enough, 1 Timothy 2:15 backed me up. Just knowing that I had gotten that precept of loving Christian faith correct without even having to look made me feel wonderfully lighthearted. That is until I realized that it would also apply to ME! Yes, I would have to risk having at least one child if I wanted to get into heaven. So much for keeping a 20 inch waist! After several years of weighing the relative merits of having the best figure in college and spending eternity with my Savior, I finally decided to go ahead and have a baby with my husband.

So, that is the reason I have a child, dear. The reason I don't speak of them is strictly for considerations of safety. While Madonna may feel comfortable parading her little mixed race bastard on the pages of Vanity Fair, even Madonna, in spite of all her provocation, has not gotten as many death threats as I have. But I don't mind, dear. "Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 5:10.

And I have the obligatory offspring to prove it!

So Close to Jesus, We Bought Season Tickets For the Paris Opera Together,