I now know why Monks like the quiet...

There is nothing worse that sitting next to a screaming child when trying to write about religion.
More so, it’s precarious sitting in a busy coffeehouse, complete with the wi-fi flickering, the internet radio playing bad songs that need to remain in the ‘70s and still having the screaming child bellow her woes right in your ear.
Perhaps it is the notion of monastic solitude one hopes for when trying to concentrate on writing about faith, straining to hear the voice of God. Of course, that’s because God is only prone to speaking in a whisper, at least in the post-Acts sense.
I’ve been trying to write about a new study by the Pew Center of Religion and Public Life that studied the new religious landscape of Americans. In the study (which you can find here if you're interested), researchers discovered some very interesting shifts and changes in thinking of religion and identity.
Yet, the screaming children are driving me nuts.My friend Jennifer told me that in the first two years of a child’s life, parents teach a child to walk and talk. For the remaining time, parents teach the child to sit down and shut up.
I try not to sermonize everything, but I find it so hard to imagine Christ actually engaging screaming children. This is the kingdom of God? The shrieks of “He breathed on me!” are the keys to Heaven?
Nevertheless, the children have calmed down a bit and my nerves are a little less frayed. The kids are cute, well, all kids are cute. Supposedly.
It makes me wonder how I’ll be as a father. That’s assuming of course that I can get my act together and get a girl to love me. Or is it the other way around: she has to convince me to love her? Eh, I’m in my late 20s and I still don’t know. Maybe that’s the beauty of it.