Lunch.

I just returned to work after the most awkward lunch of my life

Seriously awkward.

Enjoying the high of my new job, and a week gone well, I decided to treat myself to some awesome Greek food from my favorite little hole-in-the-wall joint. I snag my GRE study book off my desk and cruise on down there.

Not long after placing my order, and finding a booth along one pistachio-colored wall in the almost-tacky joint, a family of three sat at the booth next to mine. The place was mostly empty, so the fact that they sat as close as they could to me caught my attention.

Shrugging it off, I opened my book and started reading about reading comprehension passages while the family next to me engaged in soft conversation. The three of them obviously got along well, the parents asking the child about work and school. He was older, twenty-something, maybe thirty.

My food arrived to my table, I pushed the book to the side to be able to read while I ate. And then the awkwardness happened.

“We brought you to lunch to ask you a very personal question,” I overheard the mother say.

Of course, I stopped reading, didn’t move, and listened. Yes, I eavesdrop. Like a bandit. Don’t talk about anything you don’t want me to hear and blog about when I’m in the room. Nothing is sacred.

“Your father and I want to know why you haven’t been going to church since January.

Ooof. Awkward.

The poor son hesitated; I could almost hear the gears in his head coming up with an acceptable answer. You know, one of those responses that is vague enough to appease your mother, or at least to make her stop asking questions. Something that would hint that maybe, eventually, he’d do what she wanted. Before the poor guy could answer, Mom interjected, “We think your wife needs a therapist, and that’s why you’ve been missing church.”

WOW.

My chin still has a bruise on it from hitting the floor.

I think the number one and number two things a mother has no business in are her son’s church habits, and the sanity of his wife.

The son mumbled something, the dad noticed I had stopped reading and eating and that I was sitting on bated breath waiting for the reply. The conversation was then dropped to a level I couldn’t hear.

Sad.

I guess I don’t understand the stigma of church. I was raised in an open-minded, accepting household where my brother and I could make our own decisions about church. He and I have nearly opposite views on the subject, but no one seems to care. We follow our own happiness in the matter. We’re still close and talk about pretty much everything.

I can’t help but feel bad for that poor guy. He was obviously old enough to make his own decisions, but his parents felt they had the right and the power to make him do what they thought was right.

The part that really slays me though, is mentioning that the wife needed a therapist. Of course she’s nuts! She doesn’t go to church!

I often wonder if there’s this much pressure and ridiculousness about religion outside of Utah. Why do parents tell their kids they just want them to be happy, but when it comes down to it, that happiness has to be just a certain way?

I don’t think I’m bitter toward the Church, but as I get older, and as I hear about more instances like this, it’s getting harder to stay open-minded.