Fact, Faith, and Fiction

Never have I been more of a lover of the truth. My callipygian husband and I watched "Shattered Glass" last night, the true story of a journalist who completely fabricated his pieces. This young man worked for a newspaper covering political issues, but he turned in a lot of fictional work, devoid of facts.
There is also the issue of faith, which sees beyond the facts. The Bible says that Christians live by faith and not sight. That means that we fully believe in things we can't see. That seems especially true when thinking about life after death. We believe, just because the Bible tells us so, that "no eye has seen, no ear has heard, the glories that await us in Heaven." C.S. Lewis really called on his faith to write about that which he had never seen in The Great Divorce.
I like to write about my true feelings and circumstances, but sometimes a little fiction is just what you need . . . like the story of my friend's scarf. I had thought my friends who wear scarves were just whimsical, somewhat vain, even. But I recently found out that scarves serve a very practical purpose. This weekend, my friend (we call her Scarf-Face), and I had plans to roam the nearby forests to pick nuts and berries. Unbeknownst to us, a convict was roaming in the same vicinity, trying to escape the law . . . and the attack dogs following him. Astrid and I knew nothing of the convict's presence, nor that of the sheriffs', nor that of the dogs'. We went on cheerfully picking our nuts and berries, talking about the nice pie we would make. We scrounged around the forest, trying to gather every nut and berry in sight. We messed up our hair, broke our fingernails, and we both lost our hats. Sometime later, we turned to find ourselves being pursued by a pack of mean dogs. In a panic, I threw some berries towards the dogs thinking that I might distract them long enough to make our escape. Astrid had a better idea; she took off her scarf and threw it towards the west, while we ran east. The dogs went after the scarf. Breathless, we were surprised to find policemen at the edge of the forest. Astrid and I explained our predicament to the policemen, who in turn explained to us that the hunting dogs had probably lost the convict's scent, and picked up ours. The dogs were eventually rounded up, and the policemen called it a day. I don't know if they ever found the convict, so you might want to lock your doors tonight.