Chicken Sunday

As we pulled into the parking lot I noticing the white smoke rising from the Knights of Columbus cookhouse behind the main church building. With the smoke and smell quaffing up from the cookers, it harkened me back to a Mother’s Day of years ago when I begrudgingly accompanied my wife to 11:00am mass. Back then I was having a hard time convincing myself of the importance of attending church. My argument was… that I would be a hypocrite if I went to church because I did not get anything out of it. This and another disagreement concerning my wife not being my mother, therefore why should I get her a mother’s day gift… was being heatedly debated in my head. My focus shifted immediately when I got a whiff of that heavenly aromatic fragrance of chicken grilling over an open mesquite fire. The KCs were known for their skill in preparing the gospel bird and I considered their smokehouse a virtual barbecue chicken Mecca.

Of course we were late for church due to me dragging my feet so we had to march all the way down to the front for the only available seats. This made me very uncomfortable and thinking of being unable to escape early worried me. After all, this was the last mass and they could be sold out, sold out of that epicurean delicacy that fell off the bone and melted in your mouth. It was excruciating listening to the homilist droning on about the salvation message…I kept looking at my watch and wondering how I could get to the exit door first in order to purchase my three chickens with sauce. Oh! Yes! The sauce with just the right balance of tangy and sweet that complimented the juicy white meat…I’ve got to get out of here. I was ready to skip the breaking of the bread. The thought of not getting any KC chicken weighed heavily on my mind. Finally it was over. As I discreetly wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth, we received the final blessing; the go in peace; the green light.

Eventually I reached the outside, where to my surprise; there were pullets-a-plenty. I suppose everyone was taking mother out-to-eat and sales were off…being Mother’s Day and all. Well, whatever…I got mine. On departing I mentioned to the aproned attendant, “If you have any chicken left over let me know.” I was always looking for a bargain.

As I arrived home the phone rang and the voice on the other end asked, “Were you serious about wanting more chicken…how many do you want?” Knowing of the vacancy in my freezer…“I’ll take ‘em all” shot out for my mouth…before I had a chance to consider exactly what I was saying. Arriving back at church the Knights began to bring out boxes of chicken and confirmed the fact that I would take all of them. “Sure…all of them”…I couldn’t change my mind; after all, my pride was at stake. Besides, how many could there possibly be. They brought out a calculator and began adding and subtracting, multiplying and dividing. Then they began hauling large barrels full of cooked chickens from the barbeque hut. They calculated and calculated…it seemed that they used every available button on that calculator even the one for scientific notation…you know the one marked “chicken raised to the x power”. As the tape from the adding machine grew longer my concern grew in direct proportion. What had I done? “I‘ll take ‘em all”? What was I thinking? What sort of fowl mess had I gotten myself into? I contemplated the balance in my bank account and tried to look unconcerned. As I surveyed the mountain of meat before me the final answer was announced: “$312.00 should do it”. What a relief, I thought…and a bargain too. I don’t know how they came up with that answer. I estimated over 500 pounds of ready to eat roasted rooster; this was a good deal with anyone’s math.

As I gloated, it dawned on me that this heap of steaming culinary capons dwarfed the hole in my freezer. OK! Plan “B”. What was plan “B”? Wait a minute I’m not a planner I had no “plan B”. Then from out of nowhere…“Christ’s Kitchen” (the local soup kitchen) popped into my head. What was that; divine guidance? As I congratulated myself on this brilliant maneuver I also thought…I’ll write this experience off! Literally, I’ll write this off as a donation. That way I’ll get a deduction from the IRS and I’ll get credit with God for being a good guy. Ooh! Double dipping…I liked that.

After making arrangements to borrow a truck we hauled the pile of poultry to what I now refer to as “Christ’s Chicken”.

That was a long time ago. Now I can look back and laugh. Laugh at myself for all the crazy things I did and crazy things I thought. Since then I’ve changed. I have had to change because of that look; that look she gives me that trumps all arguments, rebuttals and debates. I’ve changed my thinking about going to church and changed my thinking about giving gifts to the mother of my children.

God is good! I still have inane arguments with myself but I don’t seem to win any of those either.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for blessing me with barbecue chicken.
Thank you, Lord, for a church who accepts hypocrites like me.
Please help me grow closer to You, Lord, and please help me minimize my spiritual "faux pas".

For this I pray.
Amen.


6/16/2008