PIZZA PICKUP PARTY

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 143

There isn’t a Little Caesars within striking distance of these parts, but we do have Casey’s. And while Casey’s isn’t exactly the crème de la crème of the "za-za" world, it’s an absolute life-saver when you’ve promised to feed a literal horde of hungry teenagers.

Enter the Casey’s Pizza Pickup Party. Well, it’s less of a party and more of a strategic peace treaty. Let me preheat the oven and tell you the genesis of this particular story.

As many of you know, I have confirmation classes on Wednesday nights. There is nothing quite like having six Gen Alpha 12-to-14-year-olds in a room to drive an aging pastor toward a permanent vacation in a padded cell. Teens these days—it takes a very specific, almost saintly kind of patience. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

Last week, the kiddos were absolutely ravenous and rowdy. Parents, try to be nice to them after reading this. Don't lock them in a closet for too long—the Sheriff might have thoughts, and unfortunately, these kids all have smartphones now. You can just come to confession later.

Anyway, as kids do, some brought snacks and pop (that’s soda for you non-Minnesotans). I don’t mind, but not everyone had a treat to tide them over. And when I say "tide them over," I mean keep them from devouring the hymnals.

Confirmation starts at 6:30, which is prime supper time, but these country kids don't just go home after the bell. They are involved in sports and after-school activities ad nauseam. It keeps them out of trouble, sure, but because we’re a tiny district, they have to trek to other towns for baseball, softball, and track.

Even though state leagues prohibit Wednesday games, coaches still find a way to squeeze in practices that run as late as humanly possible. By the time they drag themselves through the church doors at 6:30—sweaty, smelly, and aggressively hangry—they are convinced they’ve had the hardest day in human history.

Last week, their hunger was causing them to transform into werewolves or some other creature from the Black Lagoon. Keeping them focused was a lost cause. It finally hit me: the children need to be fed or I might be next on the menu. I promised them pizza this week in exchange for one hour of their undying attention. Please pray for me. And for them.

By the time I finish this post, confirmation will be over. I’ll have closed the door on the day and headed for the couch to zone out. Hopefully, I’ll still be alive because the kids actually behaved—though we all know that’s a level of optimism usually reserved for the lottery.

Today—and thank you, Jessica, for the idea—I’m thankful for the quick, easy-peasy Pizza Pickup from Casey’s. Without that country store, I don’t know how I would’ve tamed the half-dozen teens dropped off to learn how God is transforming them from the inside out. After all, isn’t that the goal? We want our children to know the Lord, and if a few slices of "za-za" and some popcorn chicken are the tools of the trade, I’ll take the win.

I hope you’re doing well on this hump day. I’ll catch you on the flip side tomorrow, after I’ve laid a dear lady to rest. Blessings!