Saturday became the day that was decided where many people who are otherwise too busy could get their schedules together and spend time with one another. I hosted this get together of family and friends. The purpose? Nothing more than for everyone to get together, eat, maybe have a drink or two, let the kids run wild, and for everyone to catch up with what is worth catching up with. I spent the morning preparing all of the meat, smoking it all to perfection, and all of this was paired with side dishes brought by many people. I would say in total there were 60 men, women, and children all spending their precious Saturday together for absolutely no reason.
Finally, it was time to feast. I look all around me and see my family and friends and it dawns on me that there are many different faiths attending my supper. At this moment my father stood up announcing that I would be leading us in prayer and for everyone to rise with heads bowed low. Immediately in my brain I’m yelling wait! I don’t pray so how will I be the one to lead the prayer? I stood there, frozen, for what seemed to be eternity, and then my mouth opened. It was like the dam opened and I couldn’t, no mater what I tried, stop the flow of words coming out of my mouth. It was like me standing outside my own body watching me deliver this prayer before our meal.
When it was complete all I heard was a rumbled amen, then seeing everyone sit, and everyone plowing into the food. I ate there quietly wondering what in the fuck just happened. What did happen? What did I say? Why would my dad take it upon himself to announce me at the prayer giver? The whole meal I was thinking of what I was going to say to the man who put me on the spot in front of so many people. I could have declined leading the prayer but with my wife at my side squeezing my hand I wasn’t going anywhere fast. In fact, when it was done I got a wink of approval from my son across the table. What did all of this mean? Was this an intervention? Was this going to be a forcible conversion? Was there going to be pain and blood? Did I just die?
After the meal everyone was mingling on the back deck, the kids were running amuck in the yard playing hide and seek, and I found myself standing alone stoking the outdoor fireplace. My fathers actions still weighing heavily on my mind wondering what he could’ve possibly been thinking. My dad ended up walking over to where I was, standing beside me, resting his arm around my shoulders. We stood there for a moment. The silence spoke volumes. He started talking to me where he thanked me for taking the opportunity to leading the prayer, acknowledging that I did it perfectly. When I ask why he laid it out for me in his own special way. He told me this meal was being served at my house and traditionally the male head of the house leads the prayer for meals. I told him he had put me in an awkward position because I don’t pray. He said he knows but knew I would have something inspirational to say.
Some of y’all are probably wondering why this is even a point to write about. Some of y’all have been around here long enough that y’all know why. In the end, it’s over and I learned a valuable lesson. Part of that lesson was that I will never cease to amaze myself what I can pull out of my ass to sound like I know what I’m talking about. I have never had a problem speaking to a crowd, large or small, but I felt uncomfortable this time because this isn’t part of who I am. Out of respect for my family and friends I did dig deep, real deep, and tried to make things appear normal. Normal? What’s normal anymore? Overall, we all had fun, we all ate well, and nobody burst into flames. Yay me!