Bubba and the Blog

Back in April, I got a comment submitted to my blog (look in the archives if you want to see it), from a woman named Jennifer, a flight attendant from Florida who expressed interest in our church, particularly our developing singles’ ministry (now known as The Indie Society), and more specifically in me. She indicated at the time a mild, though I thought harmless interest in meeting me, and that we might hit it off.

Because I didn’t set up this blog as a means by which I could meet women, I responded cautiously. I didn’t want to entertain her infatuation, but I did want to direct her to Indie Society outings and subsequently our Sunday worship services. We developed an e-mail relationship whereby I learned bits and pieces about her, her family, and her plans to get together with me. She e-mailed me some candid snapshots of herself (followed by the question of whether she was my type) and her brothers Bubba, Butch, and Bobby and her “Momma.” I was able to determine that this family was not like many of the people in Florida. My parents live in Florida, like many transplanted Yankees, but there’s a distinct difference between people who move to Florida and those who are from Florida. She also mentioned early on that she would work more shifts in order to fly her family up to New York in late June.

There were considerable gaps between our e-mails and each of them contained more indications of her growing interest in me. Again, I was careful not to lead her in that direction, continuing to invite her to our worship services and other events. I even brought her up as a prayer request in at least one of my home Bible study groups.

Some weeks ago I received an e-mail from her brother Bubba thanking me for being Jennifer’s friend and how pleased he was that she’d met a religious guy who was good in his book as well as the “Good Book.” He asked me to keep an eye on his sister while he kept one on me.

Last week, Bubba e-mailed me informing me of the planned visit and expressing to me the difficulty Jennifer was having finding a place for her family to sleep and their tight budget. He asked if he could stay with me appealing to my compulsion toward hospitality as a man of God. I told him I thought I could put him up for two nights but would have to adjust my schedule somewhat.

He followed up my reply with a list of items I should stock in my refrigerator. He included cheese wiz, Wonder Bread, pork rinds, beef jerky and Bud. I informed him that I would try to provide some snack food but would likely have trouble with some of the items he suggested. I was amused at how much of a stereotype this man was becoming and shared my amusement with Michael and some other people. Having spent three years in Mississippi, I was well aware of what kind of person this was and I even shared this story with friends of mine in the Deep South who I was certain would find this entertaining.

Over the course of the next several e-mails, Bubba developed into a beer-drinking, brawling, “Good ‘ol Boy,” who drove a pick up truck and ditched his plans to fly up so he could bring his hunting gear. He expressed plans to hunt in city parks like Forest Park and Flushing Meadow in Queens and even Central Park in Manhattan. In spite of my urgent requests that he not consider New York City a hunting destination, he explained how he would be able to hunt at night and how he could bribe the police if there were any problems. His use of spelling and grammar was amazingly poor, and seemed to get worse with each e-mail. Once again, this caricature was developing to ridiculous proportions. He also implied a longer stay with me and added brothers Butch and Bobby into the mix as guests in my apartment. By Friday and Saturday, I fully expected to be significantly inconvenienced by my guests who, it seemed, were certain to dominate my schedule during the week.

As I pieced the story together, I began to suspect that this couldn’t possibly be true because it was so over the top. Friends in church expressed the same sentiment. Jennifer had designated a meeting place for everyone at a small café in Forest Hills scheduled for this past Monday night. As I headed over there, I was strongly convinced that the joke behind this would be revealed.

Upon arrival at the meeting place, I was met by Michael, my pastor, who informed me that Bubba and Jennifer were waiting there for me and we needed to talk outside until everyone else in the family showed up. When we returned to the café, he took me to the back outdoor annex of the place and the joke was revealed. A large representation of people from church greeted me with a surprise. Apparently Michael had carefully orchestrated this story in order to get me to the place for a party in celebration of my first year at the church (though it’s only been eleven months at this point).

I learned that all the characters were from Michael’s vivid imagination and that he’d established free e-mail addresses through Hotmail to lend legitimacy to the story line. It was a brilliant practical joke which provided laughs not only as it was playing out, but also every day since it ended. We had a wonderful gathering to honor me, for which I was humbled. The entire scenario will likely provide laughs for Michael and me for a long time to come.
Throughout this last year as we’ve been planting this church, humor has played a major role. I’m thankful that God put someone like Michael in my experience here and for the gift of laughter. With all the pressures and stresses of church planting, I’m thankful for the gift of humor and the ability to laugh at situations, and in this case, at myself.