Birds of Pray
A woman, her church, and some birds . . .
10 AM Saturday morning. Supper Club day. Wanda would be hosting the group of eight that evening. She always relished hosting days. The chance to show everyone the modest home where she and Dean still lived despite his apparent career success. It was the home where they’d raised their children. Only the second home they’d ever owned. It was paid for and nicely furnished, but clearly modest. At least according to what they could afford.
This demonstration of their fiscal restraint surely let others know that Wanda and Dean stored their real treasure in heaven. Yes, they’d both one day share a mansion in heaven and wear crowns signifying their dedication to God and their modest lives on earth. Humble servants, they clearly were.
Wanda poured another glass of orange juice and mixed in a touch of vodka from the open bottle on the counter. Sure, it was her second drink, but it was a hosting day. It’s not like she had a problem like Martha’s. Everyone knew about Martha and her monthly wine deliveries from California. Well, at least Wanda thought everyone knew. Plus, Martha didn’t exactly hide her love of the fruit of the vine. Then again, Martha was “new” to the faith, having dutifully followed Ronald once they’d married.
