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You drive past an ordinary church, its familiar in its overall appearance...inviting even. The awnings over the large birch entryway doors serving as a haven from the onslaught of thick rain...you knock. As the contact of your knuckles on the front door echos through the churches chamber footsteps sound and the residing priest opens the door...behind him you see a beautifully decorated and tastefully lit church corridor. Your eyes fall upon a boy no older than 13 dressed in white head down in prayer. With a lump in your throat you ask what scene is laid before you...without hesitation and shame the priest says this is matrimony. Preston is soon to be my chusband...chusband? You ask. Yes, replies the preist, my child husband.
He is a chusband
by Misplaced towl March 19, 2022
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