Tea

It is three months into the strangest series of Sundays that Deirdre absentmindedly invites the Lord Almighty to tea after church.

To be fair, they'd just been laughing together over a story about Adam's first words, and Deidre's tea-inviting reflex was quite deeply ingrained. “Oh, Shaddai, you really should come round for tea,” she'd said. 

And the Almighty looked at her with such wide open shock that Deirdre blinked and stammered, “Or, oh, I didn't even think, you, do you eat? I, oh…” She trailed off as she was suffused with a calming wash of affection and reassurance.

"I would love to," the Lord said. "If you would like me to."

And Deirdre had smiled, and said, "Of course!"

"Before you get nervous about it," the Creator of the Universe said, "I will enjoy it most if it is simply what you would do for any other friend coming to tea. It is… it's been a very long time since anyone has invited me somewhere out of friendship. I will have no comparison points that could possibly compete."

Deirdre had blinked at that and then softened out of her anxiety into a curious compassion. "Four o'clock?"

"Lovely," the Lord said.