This is the only time I agree with her for the night. The last thing I want to do is arrive late and have the eyes of the congregation on my Halloween costume.  The drive to church is torture.  I quickly learn that wearing tight polyester causes a slow death by asphyxiation.  It also doesn't help when your mother insists on turning up the heater full blast.  You know I got arthritis M'ah, she reminds me when I complain.

We eventually pull into the parking lot of The Greater Zion Baptist Church.  Lo and behold, no parking as I feared.  Church is packed and we are late.  My mother sees two of her church sisters and bounces out of the car faster than I can say, " 20% off at Macy's".  What  arithis?  Without looking back she races off, mouth flapping.  I park the car, lock the doors and make my way through the half melted snow.  I've been to mum's Church before but that was about 3 years ago.  I don't really know anyone. The wind is biting at my knees and I thank god for the full length wool coat I am wearing and plan to wear throughout the ceremony.  A young boy about 14 or 15 holds the door for me.  He must think I am performing at halftime because he looks at me rather curiously.  "You better not ask me for my autograph", I mutter.  Walking in to the foyer, I am comforted by the warm air in the room, but assaulted by the noise coming from the parishioners. My mother catches my eye and gestures me over with quick jerks of her head.  I look away pretending not to notice.  A tall man in his middle years makes his way through the front doors.  He is wearing an all white suit with enough gold trimmings to offend Jacob the Jeweler.  His hair is slicked back with what looks like some form of hair gel woman must use in Iraq.  He has two large rings on each of his middle fingers.  His shoes are the color of cream and have the longest tongues I've ever seen.  Under his right arm he embraces a large, black leather bound Bible.  I guess he notices me staring because he makes his way over to me.  At that moment my mother flanks me from my right and grabs my left forearm in what feels like Stone Cold Steve Austin's favorite submission hold.  The tall man stops right in front of us. 

" Hello there Pastor Henry, my mother oozes out. This is my daughter M'ah the one I've been telling you about.  You know. The single one".

I turn in her direction.  She smiles and then increases the strength of the vice grip.  Stone Cold Steve Austin has nothing on my mum when she wants to get your attention.  I turn back to the pastor and choke out how nice it is to meet him.  "Well it's a pleasure to meet you Ms. King.  Your mother has told me so much about you maybe we can talk some more after the sermon"?

I look him in the eyes and he grins.  A hysterical giggle forms in my stomach, then travels to my kidney, then to my liver, then back to my ass, then slowly makes its way upward toward my mouth.  Pastor Henry is blinding me by his set of solid gold diamond encrusted fronts.  No, not braces as I initially thought.  He is wearing country ass GRILLZ like you would find in a 'Lil Jon' video.  This night has just turned into an episode of the twilight zone and I can’t take it anymore.  I whip off my coat, threw it to the nearest usher, shuffle to the first pew in the church, and sit through the entire sermon with my eyes closed.  I don't really listen.  I am conducting my own sermon.