Eight o’clock is a little late for me, I usually go 6-7ish with dinner. Then there’s that ‘dinner‘ vs. ‘supper‘ thing. They mean the same, but depending on cultural differences dinner is typically taken earlier between 2pm and 5pm and supper later between 7pm and 11pm. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Semantics. It depends on your biologic clock and your lifestyle ...and when you’re hungry.
But when God says 8, 8 it is. I mean, he’s God for heaven’s sake! You come when he says. He must have chosen that time for a reason. I’m just glad he didn’t call for a brunch.
How this dinner invitation came about is inconsequential, but I can tell you I was as surprised as you are. Somehow, I just knew to come and to be there at 8pm, I was compelled to go, kind of like in ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’. Who was there and what the conversations were about are the interesting part of this story, not the food.
He sent a car. I rang the bell.
It was a neighborhood on the west side of town. Nothing fancy, a little unassuming. The house was what some might call unembellished or modest, but it was neat and clean and the yard was well-maintained.
I heard a dog bark somewhere in the house. A small dog. As the front door opened I could smell tuna fish. ‘You gotta be kidding’, I said to myself, ‘God is serving tuna casserole for dinner?‘ The person who opened the door, I assumed, was God. He looked just like I thought he would. I could tell right away by his eyes that he was smart, sharp. But more so, I was convinced by his courteous manner and welcoming smile. He knew my name, but I didn’t know his so it was awkward at first. I didn’t know if I should call him God, Mr. God, My Lord, Heavenly Father ...so I just avoided calling him anything in particular hoping that the momentum would carry the conversation. But it just made it more awkward. I knew he was God but I didn’t know how to address him. Who prepares for this?!
I could see he was enjoying my discomfort. Of course ...He would have great sense of humor. We both got it, we both laughed and let it go at that. He left the ball in my court. Genius.
He invited me in and told me to to make myself at home as he pointed the way to the living room. The doorbell rang behind us. More guests.
The dog was a Mexican long-haired Chihuahua. It looked surprisingly like my mother-in-law’s dog that passed away a few years ago, the turquoise collar was the same. You can imagine my surprise when I entered the living room to see my mother-in-law sitting there. She also passed away a few years ago. “Helen, is that you?” “Hi, John, how are you?” Someone placed a drink in my hand. Could it be? No. Yes. It was Joseph Smith, founder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, the Mormons! He died in 1844! I looked at the drink. He looked at me and said, “Just drink it. It’s okay.” I took a sip. It was good. I calmed down.
What I am about to tell you happened next, but I can’t tell you if it was a dream, or if it was real, or some sort of out-of-body experience. All I know is that I was in my right mind and it sure seemed real. I pinched myself just to make sure. Ouch!
God came back into the living room with more guests and he proceeded to introduce everyone. There were some who I knew were deceased and some who I knew were definitely not. But they were all talking.
Gandhi and Adolph Hitler were discussing human rights, Donald Trump and Joan of Arc were arguing women’s rights ...Jim Jones and Jeffrey Dahmer were chewing over world hunger ...my mother-in-law was quizzing Joseph Smith about what he gave me to drink ...
...Abbott and Costello were in the parlor entertaining, doing their famous ‘Who’s on First’ routine https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=who%27s+on+first+video&view=detail&mid=9809B2E5330759840F949809B2E5330759840F94&FORM=VIRE (worth watching, the timing is impeccable, no one could do this today) ...
...George Will was in the upstairs bathroom foisting his political opinions upon himself in the medicine cabinet mirror as Claire McCaskill took notes (inside joke) ...
...Neil Armstrong was conversing with Andy Griffith about celebrity, Wilt Chamberlain was thrashing out race and anti-semitism issues with Andy Warhol, Jesus was conferring with Fess Parker (actor who played Davy Crockett) about genealogy ...
I could go on and on, it was nuts! You can almost write your own jokes here ...Putin-Castro, what went wrong? ...
I walked through the house to see what all, who all, was there. It was surreal. It must be a dream. I saw rooms with animals, it was starting to look like Noah’s Ark! Lassie and ET were discussing global warming! I opened the back door to the kitchen and saw giant redwood trees, palm trees, all kinds of plants and flowers that shouldn’t be there. It was as if every living thing on and off earth, past and present, human and animal, flora and fauna, was represented there in God’s house.
Then, I got it. I began to understand.
I had recently been thinking that it was time for God to pay us all another visit. Things were getting so out of control in America and around the world that I imagined God descending from the heavens (unlike Trump descending from the golden escalator) to save America and the world before we destroyed ourselves. To reboot and give us direction. But what he did instead was bring us all together, everyone, every living thing in the universe into his house under one roof to talk things through, to make amends, to understand each other and sort things out among ourselves. He was giving us one last chance to get it right, testing our free will and the brains he gave us to do the right thing. Genius.
I started to wonder what was in that drink Joseph Smith gave me. He swore it was ice water. I kept walking, out into the back yard. There was a shed. I opened the door and looked inside ...stars ...and the faint smell of tuna fish.
The tuna casserole was great, served at 8 sharp. God’s okay by me.
John Kushma is a communication consultant and lives in Logan, Utah.
https://www.linkedin.com/in/john-george-kushma-379a5762
http://newsbout.com/a/John+Kushma
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