I came home from church tonight, and my son Dyllan told me to eat “this piece of fruit.” Besides the fact that his dirty fingers had been all over it, and besides the fact that I could clearly see it was not a fruit, I indulged him (I could see it was some sort of onion or hot pepper he got at a picnic we went to out at a friend’s farm). I washed it and said, “boy this looks really sweet.” I took a very small bite of it and I about blew up. Now, I am one who likes spicy food, and I can handle most peppers, but this tiny bite of pepper almost made me pass out. I kept most of it in my mouth, but accidentally swallowed a little. He told me, after I had to spit it out in the trash can, that it was a Bolivian Rainbow Pepper. I have new respect for any Bolivian who can eat that pepper without flenching.
Last Sunday many from our church community had the privilege of joining the 
