I had a terrific late afternoon/evening trip to the Fred's Pass Rural Show on Saturday. We saw a lot of chickens - who knew there were so many types of chickens? With feathery feet? We went on the chacha and true to form I got a mild case of the giggles when Ms 7 began making signs she was going to vomit. There is not a lot you can do when strapped in tight being spun around in precarious circles. She didn't vomit so...phew.
A man on a Baptist church stall entices me with a balloon and before I know it he's been telling me about sinning and that Jesus was whipped and handed me the abc's of salvation and it's ten minutes later. Which is a particularly long time in Show time. I listen, look very concerned while my head clouds over his words that imply I am a sinner and heaven will not welcome me.
I wonder if he needs to know that maybe heaven is right here, now.
That I don't believe what he does.
That I'm willing to listen, but not engage.
I walk away, slightly shellshocked. It is quite the buzzkill being singled out for sinning.
Not for long at the Fred's Pass Show. Live music, a can of gin and tonic, kids eating honey garlic chicken wings and potato spirals that are pure potato, oil and chicken salt. Incredible. The fireworks begin and we are entranced, chins up, eyes shining, watching the stars fall above us. Completely oblivious to the wayward cracker that misfired and burnt the pyro technician (what an impressive job title) and scorched a couple of kids. Obviously it didn't happen close to us or this would be a more heated post about my safety concerns at rural shows. Nevertheless, it’s a wonderful show day and we arrive home late, content and sated for another year.