In the interest of making sure that some weird dude doesn’t show up where I’m at good bloggy common sense, I’ve neglected to mention that tonight was the first night of a five day conference I’m involved with — to speak about Starlite, of course. Over the next four days, I’ll be in a different city each day. It is part of a denomination thing, which is really cool since we aren’t affiliated with any particular denomination.

So, earlier today, Cate and I (a different representative from Starlite is going with me each day to the different events) headed to the orientation meeting for those of us who are speaking at this conference. I’ve been booked for this particular event since summer, so I’ve had plenty of time to get nervous prepare for it. When I finally heard who else was speaking — missionaries from all over the world — I began to wonder if there hadn’t been some mistake when they asked me to participate.

We had only been in the room for a few minutes when the two missionaries next to us began talking.

“Yeah, I was just down at Hiroshima the other day.”

“Did you hear that so-and-so (who was also scheduled to be at this conference) is detained in Vietnam?”

Um. Yeah, me too. I was just, um, down at the local elementary school the other day. Oh, and, um, yeah I got detained too… at McDonalds.

Seriously, who do these people think I am?

We somehow made it through the meeting and then headed out for the city I was supposed to be at tonight. A couple other Starlite leaders road with us as it wasn’t too far away. On our way there, I noticed on the schedule that instead of being taken out to dinner at a restaurant as we will be on the other nights, we would be joining a host church for a potluck dinner.

This announcement was met with sighs enthusiasm from all in the car. I believe Angela might have actually uttered “Roast beef, gross beef.”

Professionalism is our thing in Starlite. Obviously.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I also wasn’t too excited about sharing a pot of anything in the local church fellowship hall. Before you go thinking that I’m being all uppity or something, let me share the REAL reason: when you’re the guest at a church, people stare at you while you’re trying to eat. Or put more food on your plate. Or make awkward conversation about the teen pregnancy rates in the greater Tennessee area over coffee and dessert.

But this was no normal potluck dinner that greeted us tonight. These sweet women had put together 8 (EIGHT!) tables worth of the best home cookin’ you have ever had in your life. When the pastor told me that we were about to have the best dinner we’ve had in a long time, I had no idea that the man was speaking the honest truth. I counted three types of chicken fingers, nine versions of lasagna and — prepare yourself — 17 different desserts!

We ate, and we ate, and then — just to mix things up a bit — we ate a bit more. At one point, Cate had a brownie in both hands. And actually put salt on my brownie so I wouldn’t eat it and she could have it instead.

I kid not.

So, after totally blowing our diets outta the water enjoying dinner with the church folk, we headed to the sanctuary. It was at this point that I realized that it is never a good idea to eat a lot anything before you are about to do something that makes you nervous.

However, what happened next definitely got my mind off my part of the evening. During the special music time — the second special music time of the evening, I might add — the sweet little southern woman on stage comes off the stage while still singing and makes a beeline… straight for our pew.

She proceeds to pick up Cate’s hand — she picked up her HAND — and sang the rest of the song straight to Cate. I thought I was going to lose it. I seriously had to bow my head in prayer-like state to keep everyone around me from seeing me laugh. I couldn’t even look at Angela, but I could feel her laughing beside me. It was unbelievable.

Cate, for the record, sat there with the most angelic look on her face while that woman finished singing about winning our neighbors for the Lord. When the song finally ended five hours later, Cate leaned over to me and said just what you’d expect to hear from someone who has been blessed by their own personal special music time.

“I’m so glad I didn’t start laughin’ and snortin’ while that woman sang to me!”

Well said, my little country bumpkin. Well said.