We have all been awakened on Saturday morning by the sleep conscious Jehovah Witness. They should be commended on their faithfulness to spread the gospel and recruit others to their clan. However, as we grow older and wiser, we learn how to not open the door.
Because we live in Trussville, we rarely receive pop up visitors. So this evening, we're sitting on the couch recapping the day, and there is a knock at the door. My wife runs to the door and looks out the peep hole. She turns to me and says there is some short guy at the door. I go to the door and the Mormons are standing in the breezeway. There are two things that strike me about this situation.
First of all, one of the guys is of African American decent. It was the first time I have ever encountered a Black Mormon. I guess Al Sharpton will have to eat his words in reference to Glen Beck. Secondly, these are the guys that ride around on bikes. It was raining like crazy today. I'm dedicated to Jesus, but I would think he'd understand if I didn't want to ride the bike out in the rain.
So after surveying the situation I feel bad. Once I realized they were Mormons, I immediately fibbed. I told them that my wife and I were about to eat dinner, and we couldn't talk at the moment. We hadn't even ordered the pizza yet. The guy asked my name and I immediately belted out "Darryl". I don't know why I chose Darryl or why that name was even on my mind, but it just came out.
Finally, my wife didn't think it necessary to tell me that they were Mormons so that we could ignore the knock together. Now my helpmate sent me to the door to talk to the guys instead of letting the knocks go unanswered. She set me out. Under pressure I folded and lost all religion. "Jesus, please forgive me for lying to the nice young gentlemen". Lesson learned: You better call before you come, or else we ain't answering the door.
Branden
No comments:
Post a Comment