“Andy can’t make it to the churches’ progressive dinner on Saturday night. Do you want to go with me?” my mother in law asked me as her big puppy dog eyes batted their fake eyelashes at me.
Instantly panic set in. Now I love my mother in law more than anything, truly I do. So I didn’t want to disappoint her. She is the tops when it comes to those oh so nosey, overprotective, not letting go of her son controlling mothers and does so much for my husband and I. “I uh, I uh. . .” I stammered, trying hard to come up with an excuse not to go to our churches’ annual henpecking fest. Thinking of sitting down to dinner with THEM made my nose ring jitter. But how could I find a good excuse and lie when the dinner was centered on HIM.
“Yeah, I’ll go. Sounds like fun.” I immediately pictured myself with a pistol pointed at my head. Three courses of non-stop fun awaited me that night. An entire night of pretending I had duct tape across my mouth to quell my non Christian vocabulary habits.
My mother and I walked into the appetizer house and everyone greeted my mother in law with warm hugs and kisses and “Merry Christmas-”. And as they all looked past my mother in law and saw me instead of Andy their fake Christian smiles turned to noticeable frowns. Their mouths were paralyzed to smile as they all honed in on my nose ring gleaming in the candlelight.
“Andy couldn’t make it so I brought my daughter-in-law,” my mother-in-law announced to the entire room so that church members who weren’t already gasping at the horrid site of my “onnnne goldddd ringggg” could gasp too. I thought if they didn’t stop staring I was going to tell them I had four others hidden on other places of my body to make my “five gold rings”. But I remembered that I had duct taped my mouth.
I peeled away the tape and with God given courage I said, “Hi. Sorry Andy couldn’t make it but I’m more fun anyway!” I got nothing. Not chuckles, not a giggle, not even a fake Christian smile.
The pastor’s mother walked up to me to introduce herself. “Oh, I recognize you. I see you at church.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Sometimes.”
The duct tape went back on and my back continued to sweat as I felt 30 pairs of holy laser eyes on it the entire night. After all they didn’t know me. They didn’t know I was an official member of their club. They didn’t know I was baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son and as an added bonus the Holy Spirit. They didn’t know I read my Bible faithfully everyday and I could indeed quote scripture. My grandfather was an Elder at one of the oldest, most respected churches in town. All they saw was the nose ring. Judgment being handed down, I was going to wait until after dinner to show them my tattoos.
I followed my mother-in-law like I was a five year old afraid to mingle. I joined her in henpecking with a group of ladies including the pastor’s mother. They were sipping punch but whispering about drinking wine. I wanted to shout, “I like beer! I like beer!” but the duct tape saved me. I just smiled and enjoyed the hypo criticism of the conversation.
Dinner was at the church and it was delicious. Everyone brought a covered dish. Again we sat with the pastor’s mother, who I was getting to know and actually liked. I liked her even more when I learned she grew up Catholic. I smiled when she said this and I said proudly, “Well I attend Mass quite frequently and I was thinking of raising my sons Catholic.”
Everyone froze. There were audible gasps as people stared at me with their mouths wide open. The room fell silent except for my mother-in-law choking on her meatballs. Her head whipped around to stare at me, so fast I thought she was in need of an exorcism. “YOU WHAT?” My husband’s entire family has a 70 year old aversion to the Catholic church. His great grandmother emigrated from Lithuania and raised her family as strict Russian Orthodox Catholics. When my husband’s grandmother married his grandfather she was excommunicated from the church because he was divorced. So now anyone who is Catholic will be damned to hell.
The pastor’s mother looked at me and said, “Why would you want to do something like that. I didn’t know the Lord until I became born again and came HERE.” My mother-in-law nodded and reminded me that my sons were already baptized Protestant in the hospital and that could never be changed. My duct tape went back on.
My mother-in-law devouring a plate of baked beans leaned over and said to me, “Our food was supposed to be homemade. These beans taste like Van de Kamps.”
I smiled at this and I asked her in the car on the way to the dessert house, “How did you make your meatballs?”
She whispered, even though there wasn’t anyone else in the car, “I bought them at BJ’s. But I added the sauce! The sauce was mine!” And I thought to myself, that’s right, I remember seeing that Hunt’s can on your countertop!
The dessert house was nice. The dessert lady was very accommodating and actually made conversation and showed me around her house. Her son was an interior decorator and designed each room. He was there and proudly talked about his decorating which was absolutely fabulous. I had fun at that house and was able to let loose a bit and laugh.
Driving home I said to my mother-in-law, “Dessert lady was nice. And her son too!”
My mother-in-law said, “Yes they are very nice,” as she leaned over from the steering wheel and whispered, “The son is G-A-Y.” I guess she thought if God heard her say the word he’d blow out her tires.
And there I had it. That answered why they were so nice. Gay son was someone who was marked with a bigger “A” than I was. Now my nose ring didn’t seem so bad. And I wore it church the following Sunday. And I proudly walked in with Gay Son. When those chapel doors opened that morning we lit the place on fire!