There appeared to be something that looked like a crystal ball hanging round her neck.
"Is that a crystal ball?" I asked. "NO!" she replied--"It is a sign of my faith: a mustard seed," she said and coming up closer to me she showed me the seed up close.
"Sure 'nough," I said, holding my balance on the wing of the plane-- not an easy feat at 10,000 feet. "But why a seed in a glass ball?"
My sister in faith preached to me: "Jesus said, 'that the mustard seed when planted was the strongest of all trees-- home to birds and all."
"Oh yes, but its not planted-- its hermetically sealed." Our plane wing began to tilt in our direction. It was hard to hold on. I hate flying-- especially when the plane tilts and the clouds roll in-- it gets cold up there on the wing of the plane. I leaned my shoulder in to help hold my place. I was fine and so was she. Only, she looked dissed somehow.
"What's your point?" she asked, now sounding defensive.
"Well unless a seed dies," I say to her. The plane tilts more-- damn, where are we going anyway-- changing direction and going to Florida instead?
"Unless the seed dies, it can't have new life-- isn't it ironic that the symbol you wear keeps you from enacting what Christ was asking his followers to do?" I"m holding onto rivets by now. Definitely heading to Florida. Why would you want to have such symbol...
"Oh its not a real seed. anyway."
"Oh?"
"Yea. Its one of those Monotuxedo Seeds anyway.
"Who? What?" I asked. I was wondering if the plane was going in circles.
"You know-- one of those seeds that really can't produce food from it. A Christian company got a whole bunch of fake seeds and put them in glass balls and sell them as symbols now."
I was starting to lose my grip so I merely grunted to show I was intrigued-- well, intrigued isn't quite the right word-- intrigued like seeing the bearded lady at the circus or the dude walking down the board walk covered in a Boa that's eight feet long-- you just can't seem to break away. Holding on tight I popped back into her big Christian monolog.
...so at least they could recoop their money and people could know we are Christians."
"Hmm. A crystal ball would be more useful than a mustard seed that can't even become a tree anymore."
"I don't believe in Crystal balls.
"Right." I said, "Of course. I don't believe in standing out on the wing of a plane either at 10,000 feet, but here we are and if you had a crystal ball, at least you would have known it: that thing can't even be planted and grown-- what good is it?
"True," she said with a furrowed brow, "but its a symbol of my faith."
"Yea, I suppose." Thank goodness the plane was now tilting the opposite direction and we could balance a bit better. "But here's the thing: isn't kind of a weird symbol-- it goes counter to everything Jesus said in a way-- its all neat and tidy and not of use at all inside that perfect little globe. I wish faith and the spirit were more... like that, but in my experience, well, damn: a cross sums it up pretty good, or a seed in lots of horse... (I wanted to say shit, but I thought better of it) manure dying to live... that's what's it like. Its never so neat as a hermetically sealed ball."
She was quiet for a long time.
Much to my surprise, the plane landed smooth as could be. Just a little pop.
Abigail spoke again just after the plane landed.
"Yeah, well... maybe that's your experience, but its not mine!" she said and then popped back in through the window into the interior of the plane where she was safe. I watched her go in shaking her head and take her seat. She even buckled her safety belt.
I wished that I could join her inside that safe little bubble, but I like it better out here on the wing of the plane-- the air is a lot fresher and there is more to breath.
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