“Hey Sophia.  You drawing again?”  Laurie asked automatically, and then paused, muttering to herself.  “Of course you’re drawing again.  When aren’t you all drawing?”   Drying a dish, she walked to the family room and glanced at the pictures that Sophia and the neighbor kids were coloring.  Sophia’s cross was done all in black pencil, with careful shading to show the direction of the light.  Peeking out from under this new picture was the last one, a cross in brown and orange.  Bobby’s cross was also a combination of two colors, red and blue.  But little Lila’s was decorated in pink, with colorful flowers adorning it from top to bottom, from end to end.  Laurie sighed.  As she headed back to the kitchen, she stopped to turn on the T.V.

The nightly news was on; which channel didn’t really matter.  Laurie kept the sound low as she listened to the same stories that had been airing for almost exactly a year, since the pictures began:  stories of demonstrations, violence and rioting, not just in underdeveloped countries, but also in Europe and the U.S.  Today’s closest demonstration, riot, was in Tulsa.  Christians, or new Christians, had gathered in front of the city government buildings, holding their children’s pictures high in the air, chanting, “God is talking!  We must listen!”  Hundreds of pictures of childish crosses danced in the air as the people chanted.  Then, the chants turned to screams as the group collided with the counter-demonstrators, who chanted, “Live for today!  That is freedom!”  The two groups crashed together like waves; it became difficult to follow the events as the cameras shook and fell sideways as reporters were shoved and pummeled.  This had been the reality every day, since that day a year ago, when all the children inexplicably began drawing crosses, endless crosses, instead of playing with toys, or frolicking outside, or even playing video games.  Laurie thought sentimentally of the days when she had naively scolded Sophia for spending too many hours playing video games.

Now, though, now, the children drew, not just here in Oklahoma, but in Kansas, and New York, and London, and Lagos.  Everywhere, the children drew their crosses, on paper, scratched in the ground, everywhere, while the adults fought about what it meant.  Was it the Second Coming?  Was it an evolutionary psychic experience?  An alien invasion?  Or was it a strange coincidence?  Scientists, ministers, and politicians greedily appeared on T.V., offering their “expert” opinions on the phenomenon.  Meanwhile, most families, like Laurie’s, simply tried to live on, through the fear and insecurity.  What did it mean?  It didn’t really matter that much if Laurie couldn’t get dinner on the table.  Laurie clattered pots and plates as the screen showed huge crowds gathered in prayer in Jakarta, Berlin, and Pretoria.   The setting sun glowed through the windows, lighting the table where the children sat, heads bowed, absorbed in drawing and coloring.  Meanwhile, on the TV screen, Parisian crowds burned childish pictures of crosses in the darkness.