fifty years ago.  This occurred before I was a Christian.

  When I was working as a multi-state marketing representative for 3M, it was necessary for me to leave late every Monday afternoon and visit my major customers as well as the companies we had set up to sell for us and see how their sales reps were doing.  I would come home usually late on Fridays since I had four states.

  But I had a plan.  Since I hated what I’d seen growing up with my parent’s marriage, I planned to marry late.  But I was on a time schedule because I also had planned to be a mom.  My year to get married was 30 and I was needing to go for it – fast.  I’d not had any luck finding someone in the church I was in and this was LONG before social media.  I surely didn’t want to find someone in a bar.  I knew what the huge churches were back then, which were the only ones with a singles group.  Places like Briarwood, Shades Mountain Baptist, Homewood Baptist.  They were few and far between.  I believed that I’d have no problem showing them that they needed to convert to my brand of church with my well-memorized verses about Hear, Believe, Repent, Confess, and be Baptized.  One other church that I’d heard was huge was in Roebuck and was called an Assembly of God.  These were the only churches in the area with singles groups that had socials fifty years ago when this happened.  I called them and asked to be on their mailing list for singles events, hoping to attend some of the events and meet a potential husband. 

  But I knew I could only attend things when I was in town.  So the events just weren’t coming in.  Once late afternoon on a Friday, I drove into my parking space and picked up my mail.  There was a brochure in it for a huge multi-church singles dinner.  Everyone was to bring something to share for the meal.  I knew all the girls would have baked and cooked for hours and would walk in with amazing aromas.  Since I was rarely home, my cupboard was bare.  I needed to look like I was a great cook, but also needed to be heading over to that part of town, immediately. 

  I looked into the fridge and saw it.  IT!  What choice did I have?  None.  Since IT had tasted so horrible no one could eat even a bite of it, I decided to just pick the entire crock pot up, knowing I’d arrive slightly late and place it quietly in a place that would be at the end of the serving line hoping everyone would already have piled their plates high and would have no room.  I wouldn’t plug the crock pot in so it would be cold.  Also, since IT was stew, I was almost certain that they wouldn’t have bowls. 

  Let me explain IT.  At the time my sister, Carmen was staying with me to complete her student-teacher certificate.  Carmen also worked at a steak house downtown.  All the people there were potheads – big time, including wait staff and bar tenders.  She wanted to have everyone over.  All of them.  We had discussed serving brownies with pot in them, but I wanted to serve a meal.  I decided to make a delicious beef stew and just dump it in the baggie of pot kinda like herbs and spices.  I got the very best beef and all kinds of beautiful veggies.  I cooked it on low all day Saturday.  It smelled so great!  Everyone was so blown away by the idea of a free meal and all the free pot they could eat.   They arrived and I dished out bowl after bowl.  People were looking weird.  No one was eating.  I took a taste and understood why.  It was SO BAD that even these potheads desperate to get high couldn’t eat even a whole spoonful.  We all dumped our bowls into the garbage and I stuck the half-full crock pot in my fridge.  I just couldn’t bring myself to dump all that expensive stuff out. 

  I could see the disappointment on their faces as they made excuses and left one by one.  I just set the entire crock pot in the frig b/c all the steak and veggies had been so expensive.  Traveling the next week I forgot about it.

  Till I needed a dish.  One that looked homemade to make potential husbands think I was a great cook.  Just didn’t want them to taste it.  AT ALL.  Which I was sure no one would actually swallow.  Since the crock pot was only half full, I put in a bunch of water to fill it up and stirred.   

  I arrived with a smile on my face and placed my crock pot at the end of the line and left it unplugged so that it would be cold. 

  I was raised Church of Christ and that’s the only place I’d ever gone.  It’s very strict.  We were taught that speaking in tongues was only for when the disciples were alive. 

  I was happily socializing with people around me when someone yelled, “Hey! Have y’all tasted this stew?  It’s incredible!”  A few people got up to investigate.  A girl near me said, “It was unplugged so I plugged it in and turned it to high.  I think I’d love to taste it now.”  Others kept getting up and someone had apparently supplied bowls from somewhere!  A couple of guys kept going back for multiple servings. 

  I was literally frozen.  People kept saying, “Hey, who brought this?”  I was petrified.  I could barely breathe.  I just wanted to leave.  But was frozen to my seat, unable to talk or move.  I was fearful everyone would wreck their cars on the way home and die.

  Then the tables were cleared and they began the worship.  People were clapping, swaying, and raising their hands.  Occasionally people would speak in tongues.  I’d never experienced anything like this and I was SURE it was because they were all way high out of their minds.  Some people would stand up and what I now know is prophesying.  To me, it was utter chaos and I believed I was the cause of it.  I knew I’d just leave my crock pot there so no one would know it was me who got them incapacitated.  I could see my name in the next day’s newspapers saying, “Era Parham charged with secretly doping up Church group” with a picture of me.  I just wanted to leave but couldn’t see how I could.  I was barely breathing.  I began to think, “Ok, there are lots more people’s fingerprints on the crock pot now.  Plus, that girl’s fingerprints are on the cord too. 

  I waited till everyone was singing and jumping around and left.  With no crock pot.  The next day was Saturday, and I was hold up in my apartment watching for news of reports of weird behavior happening to groups of single Christians.

 Eventually, it blew over.  Later in life I actually attended a Charismatic church service and realized I hadn’t been the cause of what I considered weird and chaotic behavior after all.  It was beautiful and worshipful.

  Looking back I see that I only cared about getting myself home with no consequences to my actions.  I had absolutely no regard for any injury or death that my stupidity could have caused.  I just wanted to save my own skin.  This all happened before I knew the Lord and before I made Him Lord over my life.  In spite of my horrific actions and in spite of my lack of concern for others, He still rescued me.  I am so grateful.  I am convinced, too, that the Holy Spirit overrode any effects that the watered-down stew could have had. 

   Of course, my sister knew about it and at the time friends found out too.  But I’ve kept it a secret for decades – except for an occasional trip home to see my family.  They love the retelling of it.  But it is only to the Lord’s gracious glory that I’m able to see my great sin and His protection of me even when I didn’t deserve it.  We never really deserve it.

  So if you should ever attend the Assembly of God in Roebuck, stick your head in the kitchen to see if my ‘donated’ crock pot is still there.  And, no, I do not want it back!

                               Written by a prim and proper little ole lady and grandma