I am a skipper. Not the commander of a ship, but someone who plays leap frog over things that I can't explain. I skip. 

 

Responding to comments for Off the Left Eye about spiritual questions has made this more obvious. People who cannot stomach passages in scripture that depict God as cruel express their outrage. But they never bothered me, because I skip them. 

 

It is a teensy bit embarrassing to realize that I have a religion based on convenience. Tailor-made for me, because I ignore what I don't understand. Yet, I cannot deny that it works. If by working I mean it keeps me busy by day curbing my temper and calms me at night with full confidence. 

 

Skipping was a developmental skill included when my twins took a kindergarten readiness test a long time ago. This may surprise you, but only one of our other seven children went to kindergarten, as we homeschooled then. So I had not known to pay attention to that ability. The girls failed. Their six foot brother took matters into his own hands when we got home, and gave them lessons. 

 

I justify my skipping by considering the human body. The eyes are not considered lazy when they ignore a sonata. They stick to appreciating the golden hour. My fingers skip over such minutia as shows up on the radio, and feel no guilt about it. 

 

The world needs questioners. But maybe it also needs skippers. 

 

I suppose I could be labeled a cherry picker, but that makes it easier to have pie.