Sometimes I read a scene in the Bible and I can just see Jesus holding his head and saying, ay-yi-yi. He may have just heard one of his disciples say something completely off and he’s like, dude, for real? Have we not covered this?

I imagine what He thinks/says/feels when He sees the state of our country today. I imagine His tears watching how we treat each other. How far we have devolved. We’re a mess. Has He given up on us? My heart says no.

Sometimes I imagine Jesus looking at some of my personal shenpamigans here on earth and I can almost hear the heavenly ay-yi-yi. I wonder if I make Him cry.

As a kid, part of my morning routine was to watch an episode of “I Love Lucy” before school. It was my cup of coffee. Lucy was my hero—my mischievous, perfectly imperfect, covered-in-purple-grape-juice, slugging it out in a barrel in Italy or in a chocolate factory, panicked, cramming chocolates down her throat, I loved Lucy.

So when a reviewer compared me to her, I was over the moon. About I Punched Myself in the Eye, she wrote:

“Capone’s ability to, as she says herself, ‘admit we don’t have all the answers,’ is very endearing, and her willingness to expose her own foibles and shortcomings is something readers will most certainly appreciate. Genuine laugh-out-loud humor is a more and more rare thing to come across in books these days, and the author takes readers back to the era of ‘I Love Lucy’ and the kind of selfless comedy that audiences used to enjoy on a regular basis once upon a time. Effortless writing in the dialogue in every story helps to make this a smooth read, while characterization is rounded, well-observed and vivid.”

Okay, so that might be a shameful plug and I am coming out with a new book soon. But LUCY!

And say what we will about the patriarchal sit-com. The spanking, the stereotypes. I hear ya. But still. Even as a kid, one of things I noticed about Ricky—for all his misogynistic behavior, were those looks he’d give her that conveyed how much he adored her, like the real-deal. Of course, I can’t know what their relationship was truly like, but some moments on film sure looked like they weren’t acting. When he would nuzzle her, it seemed almost too intimate for my tender elementary school eyes. Sitting cross-legged in front of the B&W TV, I was convinced he was completely in love with Lucy. No matter what shenanigans she got into, those messes changed nothing about the way he loved her.

So back to Jesus. I sort of grew up with an image of what God thought of me. I imagined Him more disapproving than approving. This fear of His finger-pointing, angry disapproval and wrath drove me to exhaustion trying to get something I already had, His love.

In many ways, then and today, I am Lucy. I’m foible-full, I get into trouble. I don’t have all the answers. The difference is now, what I do know is that He’s covered this. He’s covered me. He loves me, accepts me just as I am—messy with purple grape juice or chocolate. He helps me clean up, He looks at me with the real-deal loving eyes. He nuzzles me and doesn’t let go.