I moved in, sight unseen to the strangest trailer park community that I had ever seen (not that I had seen that many, but this was the strangest group of people ever amassed in one place).
The first trailer on the left was a woman named Lynn. Lynn was one of those people that look normal until they speak and then the weird just seems like it is projectile vomiting all over the place. Lynn had a much younger boyfriend that was Korean. He did not speak a word of English. Lynn spoke no Korean. I am not sure if he knew that he was her boyfriend, he may have just thought that she had adopted him.
One Saturday afternoon, Lynn came over and asked my dad if he would like to go out to lunch on Sunday. My dad said sure, but let her know that he didn't have a lot of cash (between paychecks or between jobs, one or the other) so they would have to go somewhere on the cheap. "No problem," was her only reply. She showed up at our trailer at 9:15 and told him she was ready to go.
Now, the rest I got from my dad, because I wasn't there. Lynn didn't have a home church, in fact, Lynn had never been to the same church more than once, but since moving to Tiny Town she had learned one truth about all Baptist churches. Baptists love God and they also love soul food and potential new members get to eat their first meal for free.
In the months that followed my dad got saved or baptized once a week at a different church while Lynn took pictures, cried real tears, and brought home cake or pie or cobbler.
I drove by Lynn's trailer today - she has spray painted (in electric blue no less) "Praise and say yes to Jesus" in floor to ceiling letters all the way around it.
If you need to get your grub on, at least there are still ways to get good food and good company (and maybe a bit of the gospel) on a Sunday.