I try not to sketch in church. I don’t bring my sketch book and brushes and pencils. I try to listen quietly. A kind lady will come up to me and hand me a piece of paper. A child will peak over the bench in front of me. A baby will smoosh his face against an arm. My hand starts to itch and my brain starts to compare angles. I grab a pen and the faces appear on my paper. I try not to sketch in church but here’s what happens when I do.

She is usually kind enough to not sketch me sleeping in church. Thank you, Sherry.