Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Junk Food (08/30/12)
TITLE: Strange provision
By Geoffrey johnstone
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ADD TO MY FAVORITES
The familiar face appeared to laugh at my discomfort.
“Um, give me a moment,” I pleaded with embarrassment.
“Jill,” she laughed. “I’m Gavin’s wife.”
“Oh, hi,” I exclaimed.
The Potters were still pastoring the same church they had been called to after graduation. I had followed their career, from a distance, with admiration and pride.
“Wow, you’ve lost weight.”
Somehow my comment came out all wrong.
“Well, that was your fault,” she retaliated good naturedly.
The night passed too quickly. As the dishes were cleared our Master of Ceremony surveyed his friends with bemusement.
“Does anyone here have something they need to say?”
Almost immediately a hand shot up.
“Gavin,” the MC acknowledged a familiar friend.
Gavin Potter took the microphone and suddenly turned to me with a huge smile.
“Some of you might remember our first year of College.”
I cast my mind back but came up with a blank.
“Jill and I saved just enough money to get us through College,” he continued. “I was going to study full time and Jill had a part time job cleaning offices.”
Suddenly I remembered.
“What we didn’t plan for was little Gavin.”
Laughter erupted from the captive audience.
“We didn’t know what to do.”
It was a dilemma I understood well.
“Jill and I prayed and asked God for a sign.”
Once again Gavin Potter turned and smiled in my direction.
“The very next morning we found a bag of chicken on our doorstep. Twelve pieces,” he laughed. “Guess what we ate for breakfast, lunch and tea.”
It was all flooding back.
“Four days a week like clockwork.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“Sometimes there it was hamburgers. Other times there were hot apple pies.”
Now the whole meeting was looking at me.
“And we all know where Terry Johnson worked,” he concluded.
Suddenly the MC grabbed the microphone. “Would you like fries with that, sir?” he cried.
“Thank you, Terry.” I turned in slow motion to see Jill was now on her feet.
“The truth is,” she addressed the meeting. “There were times when the only food we had in the house was what Terry left on our door step late at night.”
It had never occurred to me. I just couldn’t stand throwing good food in the dumpster. I never knew.
“Here’s to junk food,” I lifted my glass in a mock salute.
“Amen,” the meeting responded in kind.
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