Raise Your Hand
Written by Ronald Huereca
August 2003
I couldn’t believe I had been talked into going to church that morning. I had been walking home from the store a few days earlier when a bunch of people approached me and handed me flyers for their church. I kinda blew them off at first, but something hit me. I was like, okay, I’ll go. Now I had to wake up all early and ruin my sleeping in to go to church. They said it’ll only be a few hours, but that’s what all the church people say. Two hours turns into two and a half, three sometimes. I just wanted to get it over with.
Rising out of bed was torture. I was still hung over from the night before. I kept lying in bed trying to come up with an excuse not to go. I kept thinking and thinking about if I had some schoolwork I had to do, or some old lady I had to visit. The excuses I kept coming up with were fruitless. Besides, I had made an obligation to a young couple who was coming to pick me up. That was another excuse I made up about not having any transportation. Usually that works.
