the christian store

on wayward saturdays 
my mom used to drive us to the christian store
to pick out toys with crosses on them.
it was mostly plastic. jesus rubber ducks
& jesus bouncy balls & jesus statues 
of every possible size. holy water vessels
& in the back a rack of priest garments.
i always wanted to try them on. i considered
that if all else failed maybe i could become holy. 
the thought of living alone in a house beside a church
appealed to me & my budding otherness. 
we often went to the store after i received a sacrament
because they had beanie babies for most sacraments.
bears with communion wafers embroidered 
into their feet. it is strange the make-shift rituals
we consume in this country. there was very little
that i would consider holy about the store now.
i imagine the items arriving in bulk.
plastic bags of crosses. statues in packing peanuts.
as a kid, i loved to amass as many little 
objects as i could. i did not feel divine or safe
but i believe that those statues of being were maybe just
within reach. i am not catholic now but i do
have to admit that confirmation felt
mystical in a way i have seldom recreated.
we all wore white robes. my hair was 
still wet from a shower. my face, round
like a fresh moon. it was a specific moment.
the oil on my forehead. i did not want
to wash that night & lose whatever tether
i felt to a fleeting glory. the trip to the christian store
the next weekend felt different. some of my hunger
for objects had waned. i was in sixth grade & my body
asked for more than i knew how to give it. 
we still bought a bear. this one red to represent 
the sacrament. it did not feel the same as the ones
before. i think it rained on the way home. 
i don't think we ever went back.