“What do you do for work?” “I’m a pastor” Awkward silence. Covert glances at my tattooed arms. Sometimes judgy eyes. Sometimes surprised. Sometimes nicely surprised. My own late grandmother wouldn’t approve of my tattoos, but then again she didn’t approve of things like playing cards. “Do you know who the Joker represents Corey?” “The devil?” “The devil!!!” Nailed it. I told my dad what she’d … Continue reading Tattoos