Fire, Ice, and Hearts – A Valentine’s Banquet
Part Three: Apparently Now Accepting Applications
Music: “Kiss an Angel Good Morning” by Charley PrideSome statements are more believable if only stated once. With repetition, some declarations become increasingly difficult to believe.
If one is constantly saying, “Trust me. I know what I’m doing,” the reassurance quickly begins to lose effect.
And some proclamations like, “I am not a crook,” or “Did not have sexual relations with that woman,” are instantly unbelievable the moment they are heard.
A more recent example of the “less is more believable” was worn into the ground at the Valentine’s dinner I attended.
“This is not a sweetheart’s dinner. This is a fellowship dinner,” the pastor said.
Uh huh, I mentally said to myself. Right.
Though skeptical, I did my best to stifle my reaction every time this statement was made. I was good and limited my outward response to a knowing smile.
Valentine’s Day (with the St. being optional to some) is admittedly many things to many people. For some it honors a man was allegedly martyred for promoting Christianity (one offense was said to be conducting marriages). For some it’s a capitalistic creation meant to boost sales of flowers and chocolates. For others it’s just another day on the calendar.
However, few would dispute the primary, dominant meaning is for couples to do something special to honor their relationships and commitments to each other.
I have enough self confidence that I can attend a Valentine’s dinner by myself, but don’t expect me to buy into the hype that it’s not a “sweetheart dinner.” I kept my peace about my beliefs, but I certainly wasn’t fooled going in.
And I would soon find my expectations to be fully justified by those who had long said otherwise.
I have this long lead in to illustrate my mindset at the dinner, which should in turn explain my subsequent actions.
When we left off the previous narrative, one or two moons back, I had a young friend whose intended solo had already been performed by another group that evening. Many of us, especially his brothers, were attempting to calm him down. Little did we know how effective we were about to be.
Our pastor took the stage after someone who had performed a long reading about love. I wasn’t sure whether it was poetry or prose or at least blank verse (this is a nod to all you English majors out there). The only thing I did know was that it had spread its topic on thick. Between the bits about former lonely days and warmth overflowing, or something, the observation was made, “If I was single, I’d be really depressed now.” After a few seconds, this statement was followed with, “Oh wait. I am single. Crap!”
The master of ceremonies, my church’s pastor, started to do a little riff off the previous entertainer. There were polite nods in the crowd at his words, and then the whole deal took a twist.
The pastor pointed out my friend who sat next to me – the would-be car mechanic. The pastor asked him to wave his hand, which he did… after a pause. The pastor then began to describe his talents and his good deeds and the pastor’s personal conviction that this would make him a good boyfriend, if someone was interested. He then asked my friend to identify himself once again.
My friend refused to wave this time, but being the helpful guy I am, I picked up a candle sitting on the table and used it to indicate his location. My friend never thanked me (or maybe “thanked” would be more accurate) for, but that was largely I soon got a dose of the same medicine.
Shortly after my directing light assistance, the pastor shifted aim, slightly.
“And then there’s his friend Caleb, sitting next to him. Could you wave Caleb?”
Okay. I’d earned that. Knowing the score, I immediately swalowed my crow and waved for the sake of the audience.
As the pastor went on about my college degree, employment, and steady paycheck, I told my spotlighted friend, “I apologize for all the things I said or was about to say before he picked me out.”
Having made our peace, we heard the pastor conclude his speech by saying my friend and I were now accepting applications.
The evening would move on, though the impact was made. My friend and I would both be stopped by multiple old ladies in our church inquiring about our “status” and seeking to make connections on our behalf.
Of course, one man’s humiliation is another man’s confidence builder. I leaned over the table and told the trumpeter that he could rest easy, because no matter what happened with his performance, my friend and I had already attained a level of public embarrassment that he couldn’t hope to reach. We’d set the bar high enough for him to be safe.
The rest of the evening went well. The trumpeter’s performance went great, though he’d turned down a final offer of interpretive back-up dancers. I believe he played his song twice as fast as the time signature indicated, but the double-time didn’t impair his playing ability.
As the non-sweetheart dinner progressed, and the guest speaker started going into depth about relationships and commitments, my table sought comfort in our own devices. Most of the brothers and my friend focused on throwing ice cubes at each other, as I did my best to drink as much water to deprive them of ammunition. Also, when I wasn’t dodging water volleys, I found myself playing with the candle and the dripping wax.
I wish I could say this was not a normal practice for me, but those who have sat next to me at a candlelight service know this is not the case. After all my work of angling and dangling, the people at the table agreed we had the coolest looking candle.
After the banquet, getting to the door was a bit tricky, for all the previously mentioned offerings of assistance on the “application process.” In time, however, my friend and I made it to the car and started our way home.
My friend usually leaves the radio dial on one of the many local country stations. On the way we heard Charlie Pride on the radio singing, “Kiss an angel good morning, and love her like the devil when you get back home.”
We both thought it was a strangely appropriate conclusion to a church Valentine dinner.
