I had gotten out of the pool—my little, 15-foot deal I bought last summer
from Old Dan Pursee—and walked myself inside to make a good ol' bologna
sandwich. I made one alright, but right
before I took my first bite, my forehead itched something terrible. I can't
quite explain it, but it itched so bad that I had to sit that sandwich down on
the counter to scratch myself with both hands. And as soon as I touched my brow,
lo and behold a poof! The Lord God Almighty Himself was beside me, settin’ at my
kitchen table, sure as I'm here in front of you just now.
For a long time, I stared at Him but I caught myself and looked
away. Course, that's what you do when you see The Lord; His robe and
His skin are so damned white they hurts your eyes!
“I am not worthy!” I shouted, like any fine Christian would, and kneeled as
low as these old bones would let me. He rose his hand like you'd think Him to do
and I stopped myself from gabbin’ on and on. But I decided to look up one time
more, just to get a real good look, and in His Holy Hand I came to see for
myself that My Gracious Savior, too, was snackin’ on a bologna sandwich.
"I looked out and took a bite as big, if not bigger than the
one I seen on God's sandwich."
Must've been only but a few seconds, but I
could tell He wasn't too impressed with the likes of me. He raised
up, 5 or so feet tall and looked at me settin’ there, scared out of
my right mind. His white garb flowed inside the kitchen like there
was a June wind comin’ off my new jerky maker—which by and by, is
worth the money if you got it. But I'm strayin’:
So then He,
Our Blessed Savior, said to me straight in the eye, “My son…”
“Yeah?” I asked him, hardly breathin’ but for makin’ myself.
“Put that mayonnaise on the bread. Not the meat.”
Took me a minute to get the gumption to question The Right Hand Man of the
Father, but soon as I asked, “Why?” –Poof! Jesus was gone to wherever He came
from. Heaven, I take it.
I sat there, troubled somethin’ awful, but when I got the nerve to get up, I
walked myself to the garbage can and tossed that old sandwich away. Felt it best
to just make me a new one; you get me?
So I strolled back to the table and took the knife from the ol' jar of
mayonnaise. I stabbed that white jelly like it was my duty and for the first
time all summer I heard thunder clap right outside. “Is that a sign, Lord?” I
asked. The Thunder above rumbled, “Yeah.”
I took the knife out and lathered up that nice, soft bread. When it was
covered, I opened the fridge, got out another hunk of bologna, and stuck it flat
on my counter. Another smack of thunder bellowed out, but this one sounded
Godawful irate!
I asked my ceiling, “Am
I doing this right, Lord?”
“Yeah!” the Thunder said again.
I smacked the bologna on the bread without mayo, then the American cheese on
top of that, then the heavy ol' cut of white bread with the spread on top of
that to finish it off. For a second all was pretty darn quiet, believe you me,
and I didn't feel quite so comfortable eatin’ without Grace, as I just saw Jesus
and all, so I shouted the only thing I thought would be proper for such
junctures, “Lord Jesus, my sandwich is now complete!”
In response, Our Savior sent a boom to shake my house. The fine china the
wife had settin’ on her cabinets banged up against the walls; none of them fell
or nothing, but it sure was loud.
In more curiosity than an alley cat, I walked myself over to the window to
see if the Missus had seen the deal, looked out and took a bite as big, if not
bigger than the one I seen on God's sandwich. Must've been pretty good, I
thought to myself, that Heaven sandwich.
Well, when I looked outside I couldn't see the wife, but my yard
is pretty big so I didn't think nothing of it. I just sat myself
down there at the window, enjoyin’ the sandwich and God was pretty
right.
It tasted better.
But I didn't get to finish it; and you might say to yourself, “Don, if the
Lord God told me to eat a sandwich I would finish that thing!” Well, I would've
but right as I was takin’ the last bite I happened to look up at that those big,
scary storm clouds that the Son of God had broughten upon me to deliver His
message. And I could tell somethin’ was a shade off color. It looked like it
were rainin’ somethin’ fierce. But no, it weren't rain at all. No sir.
From my window I saw these long, thin-sliced slabs of something red or pink
fallin’ from the sky. Some of them were real thin, and those pieces floated down
like little Frisbees. Others were real, real thin, twirlin’ and swayin’ back and
forth like salmon-colored feathers. Others were balled up like waste paper and
they smacked real heavy and wet on the ground. And when I got a good look at
them, I could hardly even believe my eyes!
But, as a fine Christian man, I said to myself to prove it, “Well
I'll be! It ain't rainin’ no cats! No dogs! The Lord has got it
snowin’ meat!” Then, in my preacher voice that the Missus is so fond
of: “If ye ask, ye shalt receive!”
I'll tell you, neighbor, that even though I didn't quite believe it at first,
of course, I remember I just seen Jesus. And if you ever
seen Jesus on the Fourth of July, a little squall of bologna ain't too
terribly strange for you, I'll tell you that much right now.
