We used to go to a church a little closer to home, before it had to close due to financial difficulties. Because it was a local church I would often see other members when I was out shopping. One night a pot luck was scheduled and I was in no mood to cook. I went down to the nearby grocery store and picked up a big Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese to bake for the pot luck. Of course, as luck would have it, I ran into another church member right after the Stouffer’s had made its way into my cart. Of course the conversation turned to the pot luck and I had to admit that I was bringing the Stouffer’s instead of making something homemade. She was fine with it and said she often bought the mac and cheese to eat at home.
That night the Stouffer’s was out on the table with everything else because I had no shame, even after the embarrassing encounter in the store. The church member I had run into at the store was there with her family, including her grandson. Little Julian got some of my mac and cheese along with some other things that appealed to him. They happened to sit near us at the table and Julian started to dig in. He took one bite of the mac and cheese and his eyes got as big as can be. “Grandma,” he said, “This tastes just like yours!”
Woman in the Middle 