Okay, this has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but I thought it was funny, and maybe you will, too, so I’m just posting it for my friends. Hi, friends :)
One of the particular delights of homeschooling and being at home all day is you get to chat with those nice people who come to your door with Good Book in hand spreading The Word. With the truck almost perpetually parked in the driveway, and frequent screams and crashes audible from the front walk, it’s kind of hard to pretend we’re not home. And I’ve almost always got three kids madly dashing through the house in a winner-takes-all race to see who gets to open the door the moment the bell rings. I’ve kind of given up on the whole “don’t open the door if you don’t know who it is” thing, and just try to be within earshot whenever a caller is being greeted.
So, one morning last week, the kids and I were in the family room doing our reading together, and the doorbell rang. I think it was Thomas who made it to the door first, and I could hear bits of the conversation from where I was sitting on the couch, rolling my eyes at the umpteenth interruption I’d borne so far that morning. Thomas came back and informed me that “two men with a Bible want to talk to you.” Now, I’m just not a confrontational kind of person, so usually when these nice folks come to call, I listen attentively, remembering to smile and nod, and when they’ve finished (or, if it’s been 10 minutes already and I feel I can politely interrupt), I usually end up saying something to the effect “this isn’t a good time for us”, and wish them a good day. I usually have a small pang of guilt about not having invited them into my living room for tea, but, goodness, they are strangers after all. And, part of me kind of feels bad for them, going door to door doing what they genuinely feel is a service to the community, and probably not getting a lot of positive responses. That’s a tough job, and they’re not even getting paid for it (are they?).
So, I go to the door. And, this time, I was actually thinking ahead and brought with me the book I had been reading aloud from. As I greeted our visitors, I had a respectably sized hardcover book in my left hand, discretely tucked up against my torso. The two gentlemen were nicely dressed and groomed (I think they even had name badges), and respectfully standing off the front porch on the front walk. The elder gentlemen was in the forefront, introduced himself and his companion, and said something about wanting to visit and share a scripture with us. He was actually holding the Bible in front of him, and pointed to it as a way of illustrating his intent. At that point, I parried with The Lord of The Rings, smiled, and said “I’m sorry, we’re in the middle of studies right now, and we’re really not interested.” The nice man kind of started for a moment, and I realized I had said the words “not interested”. Like he was the Fuller Brush Man or the Avon Lady or something. Did I actually say that?
He politely gave me a “have a good day” and turned to go. It was only after I had closed the door that it occurred to me what kind of impression I must have made. I was wearing a black form-fitting knit tank with the words “I Feel A Sin Comin’ On” emblazoned across my chest in bold-and-flirty white letters, no mammary support, no shoes, a tattoo clearly visible on the top of one foot, no makeup, and I don’t think I had even showered yet. And, I actually said the words “not interested.” Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be invited to join their church.