Consecrated oil is suddenly a hot topic in the bloggernacle. I have a metal vial of oil on my keychain that I never bothered to take off after my mission. Most of the time, I forget it's even there. It's probably weird to carry around oil that I'm not even worthy to use; do I think that if I'm in a jam and need to give a blessing, God won't care that I'm not active? If God can overlook that, then surely he can overlook the absence of oil.
Maybe I never took it off my keychain because that would be the sign that I wasn't coming back, that I was giving up on the priesthood permanently. Maybe I need a tactile reminder that I am a Mormon (however inactive).
Unfortunately, it's been seven years since I opened the vial (we gave lots of blessings on my mission). At this point I am too scared to open it to see if the oil has completely rotted. I'll leave it to the bloggernacle's literary critics to draw comparisons between the oil and my soul.