Confessions Of A Breakfast Cereal AtheistA Story by Redfoot Many years ago, there came a time when I
decided to ask the most wonderful girl I had ever met if she would marry me. We
had been “living in sin” together for quite some time, so she knew what she was
getting into when she said yes. This is the story of a “transformative event” that happened during the
preparation for the wedding. My bride Samantha and I came from the same
general area in the south but were raised and lived in completely different
worlds. I was from a very large city where the term “neighbor” referred to
someone who lived physically near your home. It didn’t imply any relationship
other than the spot they happened to occupy. You didn’t know them, and they
didn’t know you, and you didn’t necessarily want to know each other. You did
your thing and they did theirs " it worked. Sam, on the other hand,
came from a very small town where the word “neighbor” has an entirely different
meaning. Everyone in the town knew everyone else by name " everyone. The incredibly
friendly people in this town could spot an “outsider” from a mile away and
would approach you without hesitation to learn who you were. Where I was from,
if friendly strangers approached you they were going to either try to sell your
something or rob you at gunpoint. I was a little less than comfortable from the
moment I arrived. Sam found great amusement in my discomfort and enjoyed my
introduction to the small-town life much more than I.
As the date of the wedding grew closer we
still had decisions that needed to be made. Well that is not exactly true, in
fact, not true even a little. As the date of the wedding grew closer I was
simply given directives and assignments related to my role. I had been removed
from the decision process early on as warranted by my lack of enthusiasm and
poor behavior during various planning meetings and field trips. At the time I
worked for a very large corporation and would fly out each Monday morning and
would not fly home again until late the following Friday. The last thing I
wanted to do was spend the little time I had at home planning a wedding. At the
time of course, this was a very closely guarded secret that I dare not speak
for reasons of personal safety. I was more than pleased to simply receive my
assignments and push my way through them as quickly as possible. Plans were
made, assignments were executed, and life was good.
The last weekend before the wedding finally
arrived and the assignment Sam had for me was not a happy one. It smacked of
heavy time consumption and personal discomfort, it was time to head back to her
hometown to meet the minister who would perform the ceremony. I did not
understand why I needed to make a three-hour trip to meet someone who would
play a role in the ceremony that lasted only a few moments. I was foolish
enough to share these thoughts with Sam the night before I flew home and
received a two-hour explanation to enhance my understanding. Having found a new
respect for the difficulties of planning a wedding, I began my trip home the
next day and was reminded why the airlines have so many fans out there. My
flight that was scheduled to arrive at 9:00pm on Friday night, finally limped
into the gate at 1:30 the following morning. I walked in the door at home a
little after 3:00am and collapsed into bed.
Sam rolled me out of bed at 7:00am and told me
we would have to leave within the hour if we were going to be on time. I was
still exhausted from my trip home and my mind was not working as crisply as I
would have preferred but I pushed on. She got in the shower and I headed for
the kitchen because I had not eaten in a long time and was very hungry. I was
looking for something quick, but I also had to be careful in my choices, Sam
was constantly replacing normal food in our house with “healthier” replacement
foods. There is a reason the stuff is called “healthy” and not “tasty”. I found
myself backed into a corner and had to go the cereal route, the only thing we
had were “healthy” choices, cardboard cut into pretty shapes. I selected one called
Mueslix, which seemed remarkably heavy for it size. I filled up a bowl, sloshed
in some milk and got down to business. The cereal looked like pine bark nuggets
with a few sticks and twigs thrown in, so I was not expecting much when I
picked up a spoonful. To my absolute amazement, the cereal was great, and I
dusted off a bowl in a flash. “Don’t
mind if I do” kind of took over from there and before I knew it I was on my
fourth bowl. I read the box as I ate, intent on discovering the ingredients of
this wonderful new discovery. I took note of a few things while reading and
glossed over others, one of the things I glossed over was the two-word phrase
“fiber-rich”. I thought this was yet another inconsequential selling point for
the twig nibblers and moved on my way, I would have to hurry to be ready to go on
time.
The trip itself was uneventful and I was feeling
good with my freshly filled stomach. We arrived at the minister’s home right on
time, a beautiful area way out in the country. The minister and his wife greeted
us at the door and I swear they looked like they came right out of central
casting. If you imagine what you would think a small-town church minister and
his wife should look like that is exactly what these people were. Two of the
most rehearsed and soft-spoken people you would every want to meet, very
calming. I was thinking to myself that weddings are a waste of this guy’s
talent, he was obviously a funeral man. No matter what was happening, he could
make you believe everything was going to be all right. This guy could put a
hummingbird in a coma he was so calm. We took the obligatory tour of the minister’s
property before we went inside, and it was indeed a lovely place. While we were
looking at their barn and horses, I suddenly felt a strange gurgle inside. It
was almost like a bubbling in my center, but it quickly subsided, and I thought
nothing of it. We finished the tour and moved towards the house.
We all sat down together in the living room and
chatted about the ceremony and how many people we were expecting to attend. The
minister asked us if we had any specific requests and made several thoughtful
suggestions along the way. After a short while the minister’s wife asked Sam if
she would like to see the rest of the house and they headed to the kitchen. The
strange gurgle returned to me, this time much more pronounced, and I came to
realize something wasn’t quite right. I reasoned that I only had a short while
left in this visit and I could gain a better understanding of what was going on
once we had left.
The minister was very interested in learning
all he could about me and asked questions on a wide range of subjects. He
seemed particularly interested in understanding my work, and what it was like
to travel as much as I did each week. We visited for about half an hour when
the minister seemed to visibly change gears and become much more focused. He
looked me right in the eyes and said, “Tell me about your relationship with
Jesus Christ”.
At that very moment the occasional strange
gurgling I had been experiencing came back to me. To my great horror, this time
there was absolutely no doubt about what was happening. This was no longer my
body making a mild request for attention, this was a threatening demand for
action, right now. What followed was a complete shift of my internals,
everything inside me seemed to drop about four inches. All the little pieces of
information I had gathered in random order throughout the day instantly aligned
in my mind and I suddenly knew exactly what action I had to take. I needed a
bathroom and I needed one right now. Suddenly I was like a trapped animal, looking for exits. I
knew what was about to happen, at the same time realizing that this was not
something that could happen in a stranger’s home. My mind was racing at light
speed and thoughts poured over me faster than I could process them. One of
those thoughts was of that small-town lifestyle where everyone knew everyone
else. If I didn’t take evasive action right now I was about to become famous in
a small town for all the wrong reasons. The minister was sitting across from me
calmly waiting for his answer.
I am certain the sudden distress I was
experiencing must have been obvious as I watched the expression on the
minister’s face change. I gave him the only reply I could muster, “Excuse me
please”. I got up and found Sam and told her that we needed to leave, now. She
was obviously confused as I told her, “Just make an excuse, I’ll be in the car”.
I daintily moved to the car and Sam soon followed, she asked me why I had gotten
in the passenger seat as she opened her door. I told her, “Don’t ask questions,
just drive”. As we headed down the road I explained what was happening and that
we would likely need to replace the interior of the car if she didn’t hurry. I
kept telling her, “we need to be going faster than this”, as we raced towards
town. What seemed like hours later, as we came into civilization I saw the
greatest sign of progress the town had to offer, the McDonalds. We pulled into
the lot and I very carefully got out of the car and headed towards salvation
trying not to make any sudden movements (pardon the pun) along the way. On the
way in I passed an employee and I couldn’t look them in the eye as I moved with
purpose and speed.
Early in my own career, I found myself in a
position in which one of my responsibilities was cleaning the public restrooms.
My co-workers and I had many conversations about the various horrors we had
discovered in the execution of our cleaning duties. One of my co-workers had a theory in which he proposed that there were two schools of
etiquette when it came to public restroom behavior. The two schools were
“considerate” and “no-pride”. Each had its own defining characteristics for
everything from sound management and courtesy, and to put it in polite terms,
residual and distribution. I fully subscribed to this theory, as over time
we saw things that ranged from concerning, all the way to things that defied
the laws of physics. To my great sorrow, that day for the first
time in my life, I fell into the no pride school of etiquette. There was a
total absence of management, I was simply along for the ride, wishing I had a
seat-belt as I broke the sound barrier. I emerged from the restroom a broken
man, filled with shame and focused only on getting away from the scene of the
crime as quickly as possible.
I explained what had happened and Sam’s
howling only grew louder when I explained to her what I had eaten for breakfast
that morning. Only then would I discover that “fiber-rich” is so much more than
just a selling point for twig nibblers. I had unwittingly fueled a dangerous
rocket that was only waiting for an ignition source, which apparently was a
minister asking me to explain my relationship with Jesus Christ. I was simply
glad to be heading home so I could put this humiliating experience behind me.
Sam had a marvelous time and kept the jokes coming all the way home, at least
it was over. Or so I had thought. The following weekend came, the big day
arrived, and so much was happening that my thoughts had become scattered. The
events of the previous weekend never entered my mind, until the minister and
his wife arrived. I greeted them both and apologized that we had been forced to
leave our earlier meeting so suddenly. I noticed they seemed to be acting a little
strange afterward, but I simply had no time to delve into it further at the
time. It become more clear something was wrong as I stood on the stairs of the altar
beside the minister as the ceremony began. When Sam was about halfway up the
aisle, the minister leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I just want you to
know that God loves you no matter what your beliefs are, he will be waiting for
you when you decide to come home”. I thought to myself that this was true enough but why in the hell is this guy telling me this in the middle of my wedding?
Once again, the events unfolding in front of me pushed the minister’s thoughts
to the side for the moment and the ceremony went on. It only occurred to me later what the minister
was trying to tell me. The last time he had seen me he had asked me to explain
my relationship with Jesus Christ, which I had responded to by getting a
distressed look on my face, suddenly excusing myself and getting in the car and
driving away. This guy thought that his question had been the reason I suddenly
walked out and left that day. An unfortunate choice in breakfast cereal had rendered
me heathen in the eyes of this man. That was more than 20 years ago, and to this
day on the rare occasion that we meet somewhere, that minister is still
uncomfortable around me and avoids me at any cost. Probably not a bad idea, as
I later discovered that several of Sam’s friends had mentioned to her how
surprised they were when they heard she had married an atheist. I never
explained anything further to that minister about the events of that day at his
home. I wasn’t exactly overflowing with trust in him after I became the most widely known atheist in town thanks to him. Apparently, word travels fast in a
small town whether they know you or not. I am not an atheist, but I have played one in my wife's hometown. © 2017 Redfoot |
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Added on December 28, 2017 Last Updated on December 28, 2017 Author
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