Theologians have long worked to develop theology to explain the unexplainable.  A few have done reasonable work and made it accessible.  Yet to do so is getting harder.  In part, because we are losing our grounded-ness.  When were we last able to describe the taste of our home place dirt?  At work?  At the playground?  Where I practice my religion?  Where I walk?  As a people whose bodies are the dirt of place, can we partake in reasonable theology if we do not know the taste of our own dirt?

Quail have sensible theology.  As gizzard people, theirs is a grounded theology.  Daily, they observe, ponder, and then choose grit with whom they will develop relationship.  Their chosen pebbles will reside in the gizzard where they grind and process the food they eat.  In the place of gizzard, where earth and food reside, life is compelled.

While walking a gravel road, Will, one of the youngest theologians I know said, “Every rock is worth being picked up.”  Humanity does well to pick up more rock and place it in the pocket.  For every time the rock is touched, they understand quail theology a little better: There is no pebble-less place.  Within and without.