church potluck

The other day I sat for lunch with several older women listening to one of them tell about her trip to a town between here and the California border to see her best friend since 1949. The subject turned to potlucks and this lady shared a story from her friend’s church. She said that this big church used to have a sermon every Sunday evening preceded by a huge potluck. It was the event of the week, according to her.

But, alas, it was eventually spoiled. Apparently, the church neighbors found out about it and “the poor people from the apartments nearby” started coming over and eating with the church people but they wouldn’t bring anything with them (bad potluck form) and they wouldn’t stay for the sermon (bad church form).

So the church quit having the potluck. But, without the potluck not only did the neighbors stop coming, so did the church people. It appears that the sermon wasn’t enough of a reason for anyone to come…

When I told our daughter this story she gasped in shock and disgust. When I told my husband, he shook his head and said 'I've done that and worse, probably every day.' Then, later, when our daughter pointed out a scruffy (her word was scary) looking man on the sidewalk of our hometown, Steve had the audacity to say it was probably guys like that who came to the potluck. He makes a great mirror, that husband of mine.