Today, after visiting with one of my favorite ninety-nine year olds, I stopped in her kitchen to leave my water glass on the counter. Her new caregiver beckoned me over to the refrigerator, where she pulled a little bar of dark chocolate out of the freezer and pressed it into my hand. I noticed that one of our church magnets was on the refrigerator.
"That's our church," I said, just making conversation.
"Is it Catholic?" she asked, in her lilting Eastern European accent.
"No," I said, a bit apologetically. "Protestant."
She shrugged. "God one."
"God one," I echoed, nodding.
"God one. People different, but God one."
It was excellent chocolate, too.