Two years ago, I was sitting with a fundamentalist Christian named Art; he was at the time a resident of the Mansion, inveighing furiously against gay men and women, who he thought to be defying the Bible.

Despite some strain, we became good friends, even though he assured me that I could only go to Hell as someone born Jewish. He told his gay aide that she was going to Hell also. Art did not make many friends for a good Christian.

He asked me as a favor to try to locate his son, who he had not spoken to within 20 years, and urge him to visit him at the Mansion.

The son was in Montana.

I did locate his son and talked with him for several hours. I urged him to make peace with his father, which I knew to be difficult, as he was not well.

Despite my pleading, the son said no; he had no wish to see his father again. Art was devastated by the news. He asked me and Red (my therapy dog at the time) to sing with him, and I agreed.

The song art chose  was “Jesus Loves Me,” an old fundamentalist favorite sang to children. The first stanza set the tone:

“Jesus Loves Me, this I know, For the bible tells me so, Little ones to him belong, They are weak, but He is  Strong. ”

There were seven stanzas in the song, and I was surprised to realize that at the end, both of us were crying. I had come to respect Art for his passion, if not his sensitivity.

I was shocked by how much the singing stirred me. I think it was the intimacy of it, more than the lyrics, but the truth was it made me feel good, and it brought great comfort to Art.

I remembered this song and found it occasionally popping up in my head.

This morning, Maria woke up, upset from a bad dream.

No one liked her art any longer in the dream, and she could no longer sell it. I can’t imagine a more painful dream for Maria, and we sat up and talked about it.

She was upset.

She was almost in tears. I didn’t know what to say.

Maria is not one to languish or mope, but this is not a good way to begin a day with her.

All of a sudden, she jumped up in bed and said, “We ought to sing the Jesus Loves Me” song.” Maria is not religious in any way, and this surprised me.

I’ve never heard her sing an old Christian hymn.

I didn’t know she even knew the song. She is no churchgoer.

She ran downstairs and returned with her Iphone and Fate and the lyrics to the song: “Jesus loves me, He who died, Heaven’s gate to open wide, He will wash  away my sin, Let His little child come in.”

I sat up, still a bit confused and waking up, and we sang the song out loud.  I’m up for anything she wants to do; she is often mystical and unknowable to me. I no longer think I ought to understand everything.

Fate got into it, putting her head on the bed and whining along with us.

Once again, I felt this strange sensation of feeling good and being lifted, almost as if the spirit of Jesus himself was in the room, which I doubted could be true for a bad dream.

I am not a Christian but a lifetime admirer of Jesus Christ. I suppose I should mention that.

Maria and I (and Fate) sang the song, and then we went downstairs to shower, do our chores, and have breakfast.

As I came out of the shower, Maria rushed over and said she was going out to get baptized   (metaphorically, for sure) and taking Zinnia with her.

She was wearing her bathing shorts.

One reader was offended yesterday when I mentioned that Maria is half Sicilian and could be emotional and unpredictable.

I’ll mention it again since the woman called me racist and insensitive. Perhaps I can upset her again, a two-fer.

Maria is half Sicilian and has no problem with my mentioning it.

I didn’t know what she meant, but she got Zinnia into her car and took off. She didn’t bother to tell me where she was going; she was in quite a rush.

I did notice she was wearing her bathing shorts and T-shirt.

This is not really unusual for Maria. She does not hide her feelings, impulses, and emotions.

I got dressed and start making breakfast; I couldn’t wait to find out how the song, a baptism, her dream, Jesus Christ, and Zinnia all fit together.

Maria is like that, something new and different every few hours or so, like a smart HBO movie, one after another. She can go through a dozen moods in a minute.

I love her for this; my life with her is ever-surprising and fascinating. It never gets dull on Bedlam Farm.

She and Zinnia were both soaking wet; it seemed they had gone to the nearby Battenkill River, and both plunged in.

She acknowledged it was not literally a baptism, but it felt like cleansing and affirmation for her. Besides, she said, it was hot outside.

She was happy.

Maria doesn’t really know how different she is from normal people, and it’s not for me to tell her.

She saw absolutely nothing odd about waking up from a bad dream, rushing downstairs to get the lyrics to “Jesus Loves Me,” and then rushing to a stream to get baptized with a Yellow Lab.

To her, it was just another day at the office. To me, it was pretty delightful and amazing.

She said she felt good while singing “Jesus Loves You.” The bad dream went away, her face brightened.

I felt pretty good too, and I didn’t have any bad dreams that I know of, but I did remember singing that song to Art; it had a wallop for the two of us.

I am still trying to figure all of this out; I’ll be honest with you, good readers.

The day began with a dream, continued with a Fundamentalist Christian song, involved two dogs, a trek to the Battenkill River, a spiritual baptism of a mad artist with Sicilian blood, and a genial Yellow Lab who would love to be baptized every hour.

Both were dripping water all over the house.

Zinnia, said Maria, was deliriously happy to plunge into the river and was very much in the spirit of the moment. The song worked for her too.

All I can tell you is that the morning started badly, and somehow, Jesus turned it around. I can’t say I know how, but we had a jolly breakfast, we both were in a good mood.

Art, wherever you are, I’m sorry I couldn’t get your son to come to visit, though I can’t say I blame him.

But you would be happy to know the song we sang, “Jesus Loved You,” brightened the day of me, your friend, my wife, a Yellow Lab named Zinnia, and a crazy border collie named Fate.

I don’t quite know what happened, but it felt good this morning, and it feels good now. I’m going to keep the lyrics to the song nearby, and when things get gloomy, I’ll belt out a few stanzas with my dog.

Jesus, if you are in there somewhere, thanks to you too.