text: On cue, color palettes from LED lights splashed the stage, adorning it with the spirit of a concert. Three high-floating, massive projector screens bore the scene for all to see. Those in attendance could sense that the mystical exhibition was creeping towards its climax as devoted members of the congregation began to hiss spirals of spells to other realms. "Holy Spirit, you are welcome here!" cried a faithful voice through the loudspeakers hanging from the rafters. The carving of tongues and chimes of chants came to rock the place. Then the setting was accented by a familiar sequence that the uninitiated fellow may have considered bizarre as a man (who was later whispered to have been touched by The Lord himself) ran headlessly back and forth behind the pulpit in a sort of transcendental frenzy. A few brothers and sisters halted their devotion to track their sib until he was was secured in a coddled, sobering embrace. And when the crowd of mere mortals could perceive the presence of the heavens and all her angels to be no closer, a body disappeared, quite like magic, submerged underwater, saved by grace. But magic is not of God. Actually some would argue that magic is actually something quite contradictory to God - something demonic. At least that is what Joseline would always express (quite plainly) to her daughter Leslie. "Think about it," she'd say, "Harry Potter, voodoo, tarot cards, Stephen King novels . . . Let me tell you something - all that stuff is working with dark magic, evil spirits." Leslie had a brimful reservoir of childhood memories of being forced to change the television channel whenever any so called incantation or magic word was uttered. Oh the unprocessed embarrassment of having to throw away certain gifted toys because they carried the "spirit of evil" like some sort of anime talisman . . . cringe! Leslie caught on early that her mother eagerly adopted these and other arbitrary (and borderline compulsive) measures from like-minds in her women's ministry group at the church. Leslie was just happy that her mother had a group to socialize with. Joseline, heathen turned God-fearing pastor-in-training, was the single mother of a bright, (and by her own estimation) naive, and expecting, young adult. Naturally, Joseline's present and most principal concern involved the preservation of Leslie's soul, so it was necessary for them to attend service at least weekly together. Joseline's hope was that Leslie would one day catch the spirit and rise from her seat in the pews. That she would approach the altar patiently but purposefully, denounce evil, and feel compelled to partake in the ritual of purification and renewal. Joseline's fear of the day that the universe had a chance to impose its will on Leslie swelled in intensity with each passing day void of the successful conversion of the girl's faith. Death drew nearer with each passing day, and Leslie's soul tally was currently held by dark forces. But whenever Joseline's efforts fell the flattest and her daughter's apprehension seemed the dullest, she would channel the divine and necessary perseverance from the rallying words of Pastor Lyon's call to service for concerned parents like herself . . . "The Church is under attack. It needs the Lord's champions . . . Your household needs a champion - your children need a champion! We must reverse the trend . . . the self-medicating . . . the undisguised participation in the mystical practices! Won't you derail this generational manhunt for false gods and masters. Enlist! The Lord is drafting YOU! Dedicate yourself to the crusade to enlighten those who know not what eternal pitfalls their disobedience and lack of discipline fates for them . . ." Pastor Lyon had a way about inciting faithful (especially if the shoe fit.) For Joseline the words echoed from memory despite inhibitions that sometimes left her feeling unfit for such a monumental assignment. Joseline traced her unease directly to her conscious recognition that Leslie was perhaps her most formidable challenge yet - one she was destined to confront. You see, Joseline was quite familiar with the consequences associated with being jammed on rewind, caught up in the same unfavorable experiences. If Leslie continued to walk this earth unsheathed by the absolute protection of The Lord then she was fated to be trapped within an endless dust devil of her own making. Joseline would know, for if there was ever a cosmic weighing of her deeds in this lifetime, one would surmise that she was no saint by even the most unassuming of definitions. Although, Joseline certainly be the first to attest to the idiocy of her past transgressions. "Now I was caught up in a lot of questionable crap in my past, and I always knew The Lord, but I chose not to do right. I was dumb, but that don't mean you have to go through the same path if it can be avoided." "Do as I say and not as I do," was both an unspoken rule and a household mantra for Leslie growing up. But Joseline had vaulted a hundred times the days of when she would succumb to the unrelenting temptations eroding society's insatiable palate. She survived some of the most traumatizing and provoking of beginnings produced by the infinite cosmos. Long before Joseline's inaugural years of adulthood she was rather unresisting to the insensible lure of substance misuse and the muddled bliss of impassioned sex. These and other deviances were modeled with emphasis and annotation in all her areas of nurture (not nature.) Joseline never claimed to be a saint. But she knew was blessed because no federal detention stint or near-death experience was required for her to align with herself and her self's purpose. She wanted the same for Leslie. The Lord was with her now just as he'd always been. But The Lord needed to understand one thing about his champions: it was one thing to raise their kids to be kind and productive adults, but quite another to ensure that their souls would be spared an eternity in hell. Joseline reckoned that the soul of her daughter Leslie was bound for limbo at best. That girl was just so naive! Despite all sorts of attempts to empower her daughter by urging her to venture on the path of least resistance, all she had to do was say a few words, take a dip underwater, and submit her life to Jesus - simple! Joseline prayed over her daughter, encouraged her participation in prayer missions, and required she attend service weekly (at minimum) in hopes that one day Leslie would approach the altar patiently but purposefully, denounce evil, and feel compelled to partake in the ritual of purification and renewal. Yet Leslie was stubborn and remained slightly half-involved in religious affairs. But whenever Joseline's efforts fell the flattest and her daughter's apprehension seemed the dullest, she would channel the divine and necessary perseverance from the rallying words of sisters who would encourage her just as they needed encouraging . . . "Leslie is not that unlike these countless other unimaginative kids running around here needing saving," assured Sister Tiffany in the women's ministry one night. The other ladies were always supportive of Joseline's efforts. "We have the most profane of all generations on our hands," interposed another sister empathetically. "Remember what Pastor Lyon was preaching on the East? The uncultured influences with their meditations and birth charts? Disagreeable forms of all kind are being used to build a wedge between our kids and Christ. We have to be patient, but firm in dealing with these issues." Leslie perceived her mother as being more firm than anything. The question of the day was usually, "do you follow God or do you follow your pseudosciences?" Leslie did not see it as her mission in this life to engage in a battle of words with her mother about religion or the occult. Older folks were usually pretty settled in their ways and viewpoints. So, when Leslie's patience for her mother's time-honored viewpoints grew the thinnest and her craving for engagement swelled to the brink of implosion, she would lie in bed rubbing her squishy stomach, communicating with the hallow gurgles. "Don't you worry. You'll arrive with your own capacity for divinity," she vowed. Leslie would speak to her baby to remind it of its own magic, but also to prevent herself from reminding her mother that her own parents had once tried enforcing their own demands in the form of certain familiar and often overly-excessive, devout parameters. "Grandma means well, but I don't know why she can't realize she playing the same, old exhausted tune." In the end, Leslie active listening when her mother preached without interruption usually guaranteed Leslie would survive another day without erupting. While Joseline had trouble reaching Leslie, the girl outwardly acknowledged her self-inflicted dilemma. Leslie's pursuit for sensual pleasure usually contradicted her search for self knowledge, diverting her from practicing the spiritual exercises that she silently criticized the church for not promoting. Such a nauseating routine. Fastened to a pendulum swaying to and from detachment, in and out of cognitive dissonance. "I know what I need to do to set a good example for you," she'd say rubbing her hard, bloated belly. "Mommy is just stuck in her ways sometimes." ... The two ladies settled into their respective routines shortly after arriving home from the evening. Before descending the stairs Leslie could clearly make out trumpets and drums coming from the living room. On her way to the kitchen she confirmed that the gospel was coming from a music video on the Christian Rock channel. The room was empty while light pierced through the cracked door to the garage. She assumed her mother was knocking out another set in her workout. Leslie moseyed to the kitchen, her eyes fixated on the screen. She microwaved her dinner and sat at the table just as Joseline entered the kitchen muscles pumped, chest sky-high, eyes loud and of ice. She nodded at Leslie and stood beside the entertainment center in the living room. She paused there suspended in a celestial stupor her hands on her hips. Leslie ate with her head down. "Let me ask you something, love," Joseline said meeting her daughter's eyes. "Me and the ladies in the ministry were discussing this in our group. You know, any one of us can go at anytime. Think about it . . . would you be spared from an eternity in hell? When are you going to get saved?" Leslie stuffed her mouth, pondering the thought. "I know it's heavy stuff, but we have to have this talk." Trumpets and drums presided the room. Joseline was kindled. She approached Leslie and braced on the back of an adjacent chair. "Now God forbid, but if you got into a car accident tomorrow, do you know where you would go? Where the baby would go??" she asked mournfully. Leslie swallowed softly and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't really know mom," she replied. A conceding exhale escaped Joseline, and she returned to the garage with a little slouch in her posture. Leslie stomached a couple more bites of food while the clanking of weights pealed through the door despite the trumpets and drums.