Don’t Spit in the Buffet


I don’t like pickles.
PB loves pickles.
pickles
Especially the variety of pickles some of the ladies at church make.
Say the word “potluck” and PB’s mouth starts watering
for those crispy, crunchy, briny bites.
Not me.
I walk right by the sour, vinegary, pickled cucumbers.

However, my aversion to anything pickled
doesn’t give me the right to spit in the pickle dish as I walk by.
That would ruin it for for any pickle aficionados in line behind me.

potluck

That’s the beauty of potlucks — you get to load your plate with whatever pleases your palate and skip over the dishes that are disliked. I won’t be offended if someone turns up their nose at my pistachio/pineapple/mini-marshmallow salad (you know the one I’m talking about if you’re a Methodist). And the pickle-making ladies in the kitchen won’t feel bad when I pass by their contribution.

In our fellowship hall,
every parishioner’s heart is thrilled
to see tables laden with a plethora of dishes from which to chose.

A good time is had by all, pickle-lovers and pickle-haters alike.

I like to think of the start of our church year as a wide and varied potluck of opportunities. Choir, Bible studies, kitchen crew, help with youth ministries, nursery duty, quilter’s group, teaching Sunday school, attending Sunday school, serving on committees, visiting shut-ins, cleaning the pews, running the sound board, praise band, Supper Club, retreats, Mom’s group, Men’s group, — it’s enough to make your mouth water.

So, step right up, folks.
Heap up your plate with whatever looks appetizing.
But, please, don’t spit in the buffet.

P.S. — Don’t miss the grilled turkey potluck this Sunday!

grills

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