\nOur church believes in planning with purpose. From my evaluation of our\nprogramming, it seems our two primary purposes are eating and talking. We\neven offer coffee and doughnuts at our morning services.<\/p>\n\n
\nAll these “eating meetings” sometimes make me wonder if perhaps we’re wasting\nGod’s time. After all, we’re noshing, not praying or reaching the lost. I’m\noften tempted not to bother with meetings featuring “food, fun, and fellowship.”<\/p>\n\n
\nSo I went reluctantly to the latest invention of the women’s committee, a\nsort of “Chinese Chit-Chat,” since we’d be eating Chinese take-out and chattering\nover chopsticks. The menu included egg rolls, moo shu chicken, chow mein,\nand German chocolate cake (the Chinese having not discovered chocolate).\nEver mindful of the Lord’s decree, “My house shall be called a house of prayer,”\nwe blessed the meal.<\/p>\n\n
\nAfter the chow mein chow-down, an ice-breaker game was introduced. We were\nto write a secret no one knew about us.<\/p>\n\n
\nThis stumped me. I’m described as “refreshingly transparent” by some, “discretion\nimpaired” by others. All of my extraordinary experiences were well-known\nin this circle by now. I finally settled on revealing that I received my\nfirst kiss at the innocent age of 10. Surely, I had never disclosed this\nfascinating fact to my fellow churchgoers.<\/p>\n\n
\nThe notes went into a basket. When mine was chosen, the reader promptly pointed\nto me and said, “It’s Linda.” This from a relative newcomer. So much for\na life of mystery and intrigue.<\/p>\n\n
\nAs the basket emptied, we discovered strange incidents and hilarious disasters.\nAlmost last, we opened a slip of paper that read, “I have a 15-year-old\ndaughter.”<\/p>\n\n
\nIt seemed one of our shyer members had decided to play it safe. But we gradually\nrealized that many of us had daughters, but none who were 15. We asked the\nvisitors, but no one owned up.<\/p>\n\n
\nFinally, Anna, a faithful member for over five years, slowly raised a trembling\nhand. Anna? But we knew all about her-married, with no children because of\nhealth risks, we thought. Eyes widened, talking ceased.<\/p>\n\n
\nAnna explained, “When I was a teenager, I had a baby girl. My parents are\nraising her, but they live far away, and I haven’t seen her for several years.\nBut she still calls me ‘Mom.’<\/p>\n\n
\n“I was embarrassed to tell this when I first came. Then I didn’t know how\nto tell it, when you already thought you knew me. I know God wants me to\nbe more open and let you know the real me. Next Mother’s Day, I want to stand\nup with the other mothers.”<\/p>\n\n
\nSilence. Tears. Then came embraces and soft words of reassurance and gratitude\nfor her newfound trust in us.<\/p>\n\n
\nAnna’s heart was finally free of a burdensome secret, all because we played\na silly game at a frivolous event. God showed up anyway, along with the Chinese\ntake-out.<\/p>\n\n