An Interesting Exchange

Today, as Brock and I were walking home from the park after a game of fetch with Mojo, we ran into a man from our ward who was on a walk with his elderly mother.

They shuffled along, two peas in a pod. All they have is each other. The man--whom we will call Arthur--is not quite "there" mentally, and his mother is very weak. So weak, in fact, that she had to resign as ward chorister after the job proved too strenuous (she nearly fainted three times).

Brock hollered at them from across the street. "Hey, Arthur! How's it goin'?"

"Oh, I'm leaving the church."

As you might imagine, this answer stopped us dead in our tracks. Mojo tugged on his leash.

"Alright . . . uh . . . " said Brock, not knowing whether to take it as a joke. (We were, after all, talking to a man who dances on street corners advertising Little Caesars for a living.)

"No really, I'm leaving!" Arthur insisted. "I'm leaving the church. I really am."

"Okay . . . why's that?"

"Because I don't believe in God," Arthur said flatly.

[Cue the chirping crickets.]

"Hmm. That's too bad, " Brock stammered." . . . Welp, have a nice walk!"

And they did. Arthur waved us goodbye as he continued shuffling homeward with his mother, apparently finding nothing striking about the conversation at all.