The woman at Jewel Heart temple recognized me, “We have met before,” but she could not remember my name.
“I came last year for Losar,” I said. “And the year before.”
I was a little embarrassed to admit I was like those once-a-year-Christians my Catholic School nuns used to complain about, the folks who only went to church once a year on Christmas, “If they are only going to go to church once a year, they ought to at least go on Easter. Easter is the more important holiday.”
However, I was even worse. Not only did I only come once a year, I did not even arrive until after services had ended—the three-hour services, I should add. I passed the restless children playing outside in their Tibetan silks, “Are services still going on?”
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