Proof The Bible Is True

My husband, Bill, and I weren’t expecting an evening to ourselves. It’s a rarity, raising three kids. I’d just put a chocolate cake in the oven for after dinner when my sister dropped by, unannounced. “I’ll watch the kids,” she said. “You two enjoy a fun night out.”

“What should we do?” I asked Bill. He picked up a newsletter from a Catholic charity we supported. “Well, there’s a potluck tonight,” he said. A church potluck? That wouldn’t have been my first thought. And the church was an hour and a half away.

“We don’t have anything to bring,” I started to say, but then the oven timer dinged. “Sure we do,” Bill said with a triumphant grin.

 

On the way we got lost. When we arrived at the church fellowship hall, two lonely casseroles were all that was left on the serving table. A man was heading out the door. He stopped and stared at the cake pan in my hands.

 

“What’s that delicious smell?” he asked.

 

“Chocolate cake,” I said. “But I guess we’re too late.”

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