The Mecca

A disclaimer, or a preface; you decide after you read it:

What follows is true. Nothing has been made up, nothings has been exaggerated (too much), and those that are referenced to or talked about will remain nameless, and also, and most importantly, are not of any less worth because of what I say.

…

My friend Joy Eggerich is in town, her father speaks around the country about marriages — and apparently is incredible at it (since I got a free dinner out of it). So, I was invited as a guest of theirs to a house in North Western Virginia for dinner. I asked if it was free. It was. I was in.

Fast forward to the house. We pull up to the house, a nice sprawling red-bricked house, looking warm and toasty on the inside. Picturesque to say the least…hmm…like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting maybe? Nah. We proceeded to walk to the door, knock, no answer, Joy’s lovely mom flung the door open nearly breaking the nose of the bubbly hostess who was running to get the door. It was cold outside damnit. She let us in the house.

Classic. I will refrain from detailing the whole house like a chapter in Moby Dick (hearsay, never read it), and will skip to the absolute GEMS. As soon as I walked into the house I started taking mental notes, Joy elbowed me and said, “don’t write about this in your blog,” I didn’t respond because I was too busy looking at the self playing piano that was sitting in front of us. Playing with itself. Now, the self playing piano is a weird thing. I have encoutered them before, and this time this thought went through my mind, “If you want to hear a piano play, why not just buy a CD, instead of a whole damn piano from COSTCO!” Priceless. Costco has really changed evangelicals lives. think about it. If costco set up cots, people would stay for weeks just to see what else they can buy in bulk.

Onward. We are seated in the couch-room, or the living room, whatever, where I look to my left and see a cute little basket of reading materials:

The River Dance program (from a live show)
Manners of a Gentleman
The Frugal Housewife

The last title was my favorite. It was “written in the late 1800’s by a revolutionary woman on the effectiveness of economical” house-wifery. Thank God.

The people were friendly, lovely in fact, there was appetizers, good conversation AND A THOMAS KINKADE BIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There was more than a handful thomas kinkade paintings in their house (a staple in conservative christian circles, in fact, I think there is a bill trying to be passed by a small state somewhere in the south that says you can’t be a christian unless you have at least 3 kinkade paintings in your home, and one of the three has to be in a bathroom.) which I noticed when we first entered, but that couldn’t prepare me for the huge ass bible in the den, that literally read, “Thomas Kinkade Bible” — kinkade pictures of biblical times. Funny, i don’t remember hearing about snow and little steamed window cottages in capernaum (i made that up, but you know kink wanted to put that in there)

Anyway…That’s when i knew this was the mecca, every good evangelical should get there at some point in life, if only for the amazing steak that was served. But here it is. Here is the deal maker, or breaker. After dinner the young lad who was the boyfriend of the eldest daughter (i say young but he might have been older than me, my age-radar is way off) cleared his plate, sat back down, looked lovingly into his girlfriends eyes, and said:

“do you mind if i get my guitar?” I almost choked on my wine. As i got a hold of myself the father walked in from the backyard and told everyone he had just made a bonfire, the scene was set. I waited with anticipation.

The boyfriends eyes lit up, the girlfriend exclaimed, “i will get my classical guitar.” Then turned to me and Joy and said:

“Do you want to play the egg shakers!?” YES I WILL! The heavens parted, angels sang, I knew I had reached it. I have been to the top, I don’t know what more I can see, what more I can experience than this. I kindly declined as I tried to push all the fluids back into my ears and nostrils that were seeping out because of all the excitement and laughter I was holding in, and they excused themselves from the table and got their respective instruments. Gold plated egg shakers and all.

I was satisfied with the night, and we were ready to leave. But the mom had other ideas. She called the girlfriend in from the seance they were having around the fire and told her to sing OPERA for everyone in front of the player piano before we left. I said to myself, “God? If you are there, you can take me now.” He let me stay. And she did sing, or opera-d, whatever you call it. And she was good. And we all clapped, then I crapped my pants from excitement. Not really. Then we left.

I tell you all about this experience, not to enlighten you, or to warn you, or to shame you, but really, only to make you jealous.

And by the way. I am definitely in a cult, who some would say “run the american government.” Can you hear that? That’s the angels singing. God is good, all the time…

~ by kevinthomas on October 30, 2005.