Meriwether Blue decided to become a nun and start her own order separate from the Archdiocese, but more aligned with the high-flying nuns of Costa Rica—those avid, though seldom seen, forest dwellers for whom the soul can only be awakened in accordance with the sky. To say she encountered great resistance would be an understatement as several high-profile cardinals in Rome put a hit out on her, even going so far as to track her flight patterns with infrared light and high-powered drones. But she was much too agile for them, even wearing that damnable Whipple!

As a newly sanctified believer, Meriwether Blue got to work building orphanages for children in Somalia, administering free medical care for pregnant women in Niger, and hiring engineers to bring fresh water to the smallest villages in Burundi. All in all, it was very satisfying work indeed. She even started giving flying lessons to the local Macaws whose wings had grown sad and weary. These were the most exhilarating moments of her life, and certainly the most holy! As an experiment, she offered communion against a fierce and luminous sky rather than in the old smelly pews, downing the usual stale crackers and cool aid. She wanted to spice things up, to send the sparrows spinning in the air and the fantails dizzy with anticipation. 

Never one for proselytizing, Meriwether Blue tried to recruit only within her immediate flock, those taciturn fliers for whom the daily pains of living had simply gotten to be too much, and the divine rarely lit up the heavens. These were the birds that needed her the most, though there was one grumpy old fart named Walter whose daily protestations and vegetable throwing fits, really chapped her hide, but even Walter was capable of earning a place at that much coveted table in heaven, even if he pooped as he flew at lunchtime above an open air restaurant, strategically aiming for someone’s beet salad!