Forget the little green men; we are the aliens! Jesus said his kingdom was not of this world. Well, guess what? Neither are we. Yeah, you read it here first. I enjoy bringing you the latest newest oldest of realizations.
Check it out. If you tell the truth to yourself, which is far easier than telling it to your fellow “human beings,” you know that you feel like an alien.

I was the oldest child in a dysfunctional family. I strove to uphold my high standards, being a perfectionist by birth. And I succeeded until a gigantic panic attack took me down at the age of 13. I have never been the same since.

I didn’t know that social anxiety would become a real problem in this day of instant connection with bazillions of people online.
I am here to tell the truth as I feel it. That alone makes me an alien.

But let’s get back to Jesus, a figure that some call an invention and others call The Messiah. The man told the truth in love and he was crucified for doing so. No wonder we are all cowardly about emulating him.

He stressed that his father was in heaven (the heavens) and that our place was with him. That’s about it. We did not know his dad nor had we ever visited his house after school.

This essay is getting more and more unbelievable, just like The Greatest Story Ever Told.

Some of you know that I love writing things both serious and comical. Apparently so did The Man Upstairs, because He is asking us to believe that there are stairs that he is up. Whassup with that?

I mean, c’mon, fellow aliens, you never fit in. You can’t because there is no “in” or “out,” practically speaking. Yet we spend our lives trying to avoid “heaven, upstairs and the Man” and what he taught through his son, who got nailed for being an alien.

If any of you wonder why we are the aliens, it makes perfect sense. Just ask the Man Upstairs. He has a book out and it has all of the answers but none of your stupid alien questions. Like “Who am I?” Well, duh, you are one of the aliens. Join the club.

Vicki Woodyard