The World Was Ending This Morning So I Made Scones
Whether it’s true or not, I need to believe everything will be alright.
Many of the contexts which the world has comfortably and predictably rotated upon and within for centuries are shifting, and the Earth herself, seems to be literally slipping on her orbital axis. Thus, tilting her residents closer to the sun while we’ve made ourselves and every other living organism extra vulnerable by pissing away our ozone umbrella. I’m willing to accept the truth of our dire circumstances but I’m going to have to ask the world to let me have it at my own pace.
So, this morning while the world was ending, I made scones. It’s a simple, almost meaningless thing to do in light of our dismal prospects for survival, I know. And I know scones won’t stop global warming or clean up our environment or do anything to heal cultural divides, but doing it shifted my moody, hopeless attitude. And these day, my attitude is just about the only thing I feel I have any control over.
While preparing my scone batter, I glanced toward the kitchen window and noticed a maroon sedan bouncing up my rutty drive. I had a feeling I was about to be “taken to church”. The last time it was a white sedan and it carried four elderly ladies from First Baptist. I headed to the door upon hearing Finneous announce the occupants had made it to the screened porch. Wiping my hands on an embroidered tea towel, a nonverbal clue meant to say “I’m in the middle of something,” without actually saying it, I stepped onto the porch and smiled at my neatly dressed guests.
The man and his presumed adolescent son were smiling too. Both collared and tied with pomade in their neatly combed hair. Not wasting a moment, the man cheerfully announced the reason for their visit.
They wanted to know what I thought about the shape the world was in (why, it’s round, I thought, amusing myself) and where we were headed? Here again, I resisted informing him and the boy we couldn’t possibly be headed anywhere because we were all stuck on a big rock rotating on its own fixed axis while being pulled around the Sun. No one’s going anywhere except in our minds.
But, without pausing for my imaginative response, the father began to quote from the Bible and the Book of Revelations. Something about how “God would wipe every tear from their eyes…the destruction…perish..eternity…”
As if on cue, the boy bowed his head and opened the worn and graying Bible he’d pulled from behind his back to take up his part of the bargain and read a follow-up passage.
I was preoccupied with wondering what religious denomination they were when the affable man asked me another question I decided was probably rhetorical, too.
“What do you think people would say or do if this was announced in the newspapers?”
I must admit I glazed over at the mention of the Book of Revelations, but I figured I had the gist of what he wanted me to hear. When he paused for a breath, I waded in while I had the chance, whether he intended for me to answer or not.
“I don’t think they’d notice or believe it since no one reads the newspapers anymore, and most folks don’t trust the media either. But, I tend to lean toward the positive side of things regarding where we’re headed. However, I don’t think we are going to be saved by simply believing the right combination of religious dictates, and waiting to be rescued like gaunt Naked and Afraid survivors airlifted off a burning island. We’re going to have to figure out how to help ourselves. I think we’re meant to save each other by actually living the principles of Love,” I quickly spilled out.
From the corner of my eye I noticed the young boy close his Bible and raise his head up to shyly look at me then glance at his father. This was the very first time I’d been truthful with any religious canvasser, ever, and it felt good to be honest. All these years I seemed blind to the fact that these people were knocking on my door.
The man was still smiling when I’d finished but had clearly moved on to his next objective which was to get me to take the colorful pamphlet he’d pinned against the Bible with his left hand. The cover was an illustration of an anxiety ridden man clutching either side of his face, eyes bulging, beads of sweat (or tears) dripping off the page.
My eyes had flicked over it a couple times already and I’d made the decision I wasn’t going to accept it when offered.
Turning his body only a quarter turn away from me, still smiling, he said, “Well, I’d like to leave you with something to read,” then shifting the Bible to his right hand he extended the pamphlet towards me with the other.
As he did this, I noted the nonverbal equivalent of resignation which told me his retreat was imminent.
I figured it was still a good time to be honest, so I refused the pamphlet by telling him to save it for the next person because I wouldn’t read it. I would have added that I didn’t respond well to fear mongering, but I was more than ready for them to go and get back to my scone preparations.
Still smiling he thanked me and bid me ‘have a nice day’.
“You do the same,” I cheerfully replied.
When I returned to the kitchen to finish preparing my scone dough I found the interaction with the man and his son was just the right amount of time to let the oven preheat and the dough to rest before forming it up and popping it in the oven.
Thirty minutes later, just as I had hoped, my attitude was significantly improved as I sat down with a warm cranberry scone and a cup of fresh brewed coffee.
S Lynn Knight 2016
