Normally I wouldn’t bring religion into one of my blog posts as I don’t want to accidentally offend anyone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to the offending people part, just the accidental part. If I offend someone I like for it to be on purpose.
My mother and I have a St. Patrick’s day tradition wherein every year we go to McDonald’s and get ourselves some Shamrock Shakes. As far as traditions go, it’s not a bad one. Although, come to think about it, I’m surprised (and dismayed) that we don’t then take those shakes home and add booze. I mean, it is St. Patricks day!
This past St. Paddy’s day, there we were, sitting in the McDonald’s drive-through after ordering our milkshakes, minding our own business, when the shrill warbling of an angry, middle aged woman shattered the city silence. (Of course, the term “city silence” is a bit of an oxymoron in that a city is never truly silent, it’s simply that there’s a lull between car honks and sirens.)
Two cars ahead of us in the drive-through line up was a beat up minivan driven by an irate woman. She was yelling at the poor drive through minions – something about McDonald’s charging more without giving her more food and her kids are hungry dammit! She was gesticulating wildly, arm fat flapping in her self-created wind. I couldn’t hear everything that she was saying (sometimes because she wasn’t yelling it, sometimes because I was just laughing too hard) but I did hear enough to know that she was arguing the way every single person in the wrong does. She just kept repeating herself; spouting off the same points over and over again with mild variations in the wording she used.
At this point my mother (who was sitting in the passenger seat enjoying the show just as much as I was) and I were getting sick and tired of waiting for this woman to get the frak out of our way. It was obvious that she had already gone through the drive through once, got her food, wasn’t happy with something and had driven around and went through again with the sole purpose of yelling at strangers. Apparently she was raised wrong and, instead of parking and actually getting out of her car to do her yelling inside like a decent, civilized human being, she felt she would inconvenience other drive-through goers.
And then she said something that made me glad I didn’t yet have my milkshake as I would have spewed it all over my dashboard:
“I don’t normally do this, I’m a good Christian woman.”
At hearing this a million thoughts start flying through my head – so many, in fact, that I couldn’t decide which to verbalize first!
-What the fuck does religion have to do with this?
-As a Christian, aren’t you supposed to ‘love thy neighbor’? -would that not include McDonald’s employees?
-Does God hate McDonalds?
-Was McDonald’s started by the Devil?
And so on, and so forth.
My mother just had one thing on her mind when she heard the woman say she was a good Christian:
“Yeah? Well she’s a lazy Christian.”
This deadpan statement from my five foot nothing, sweet as honey, mother who rarely has a mean word to say about anything or anyone and is more likely to be horrified by my unkind words than utter her own. It was AWESOME.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I love my mommy.