
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, April 3, 1994                   TAG: 9404080001
SECTION: EDITORIAL                    PAGE: B-3   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: By JUNE PULLIN
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

EASTER PRAYER

MY MOTHER was never much of one to have a lot of company for dinner. In fact, the only times I ever remember her inviting guests was when out-of-town relatives would be visiting in the area. Then she would ask them to come for Sunday supper. That's what made one Easter so special.

Mama came from a large family - there were then 10 living children - and many of her brothers and sisters lived within a few miles of us. "An easy commute," we would say today.

This particular Easter, I was about 8, Mama had invited a houseful of family for turkey dinner. She had scrubbed and cleaned, cooked and baked, and everything was going to be just right.

As a small child, I had been taught a blessing that I always said at our family's meals and I, too, had been preparing for Mama's special dinner. I was going to be the one to say grace at this gathering and I was ready. I knew the simple verse by heart. I'd practiced a hundred times in my head and I knew just how I wanted to say it. I was proud to be the one to "ask the blessing," and I could hardly wait.

Well, the day finally dawned and before long the house was full of the smells of pumpkin pie, candied yams and homemade rolls. The turkey was in the oven and the string beans were cooking on the back eye. The big dining room table was set with a white table cloth and Mama's best dishes.

Soon they started arriving. Uncle James and Aunt Lenola were there with their boys, Aunt Elvie, Granny, Junior and all the rest. I'd never seen so many relatives in one place in my whole life.

Morning passed noon and as the house got fuller and fuller, it smelled better and better. We cousins giggled and romped and played and smelled the pies until we could hardly stand it any longer.

"When, when?" we begged.

"Soon," came the answer.

My stomach told me it was time. Mama said soon. I had practiced. I was ready. Any minute now she would call out, "Y'all come eat," and there in front of all her family, I'd bow my head and ask God to bless Mama's turkey and gravy, and I'd be so proud.

Just then, the phone rang. With dinner still on my mind, I ran to answer it and picking up the receiver, blurted, "Thank you Jesus for this food and keep us through the day. Amen."

Horrified, I dropped the phone and collapsed into a torrent of embarrassed tears. My moment of glory was ruined. I was the laughingstock of the family and I'd never live down the shame.

Of course everyone did laugh at me, and my cousins rubbed it in. But soon Mama called us to eat and that was the end of the incident for everyone but me. To this day, I don't remember the rest of that Easter.

As my own children were growing up, they, too, learned, "Thank you Jesus ... ." But for special meals at our home, my husband intones, "Heavenly Father ... ''

We don't take any chances at our house. And we don't answer the phone.

June Pullin of Covington is a student at Dabney S. Lancaster Community College.

by CNB