How Bazaar, How Bazaar……

We went for our annual visit to church today to attend the local craft and bake sale. One of the Lord’s disciples appeared as if from out of nowhere to guide us into our parking space. I knew he was one of the betrothed by his uniform, a bright, orange vest. He had a tough time understanding my choice in space. Probably because some much stronger force was trying to pull me back out onto the highway. The Lord will forgive my parking indiscretions and this man’s judgement of them.

Our babysitter is an active member in this church and is the only reason we are even allowed in the door without a pass card to be swiped stripe facing down and on the inside. I pray we can all remember this simple set of instructions for future transactions.

She was selling Hallowe’en candy in spooky, decorated bags for the children. All my life, I assumed that organized religion had no tolerance for this holiday. I remember as a kid people who posted notes on their front doors describing why they did not celebrate or worse, those that did celebrate but handed out raisins or toothbrushes.

I’m not sure how she smuggled the bags onto the old wooden table with rounded red metal legs and I certainly won’t be the one to expose her identity. It will have to remain a private discussion between her and her God.

 The carrot cake is the real reason we attend the bazaar. It’s true what they say. Icing is next to Godliness.

Somewhere on the bake sale committee, exists an elderly woman who turns out the moistest cake, chock full of walnuts, pineapple, coconut, raisins and a generous smearing of tangy cream cheese icing. The church charges $8 for large and less for the smaller version though if anyone attempts to buy that size, they should go straight to confession. It must cost this woman at least triple that price to produce these rich, dense treasures but who are we to question God?

For anyone who ever thought God was a man, they haven’t tried her carrot cake.

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