Essential and Ridiculous Haystacks Toppings, by Order of the Potluck Committee

Every church has two kinds of members: people who put the chips on the bottom, and people we are praying for.

Essential

Fritos. Tortilla chips are allowed, the way a visiting pastor is allowed.

Chili or beans. Vegetarian, obviously. Sister Margaret checks.

Lettuce. Shredded, never torn. Torn lettuce means you transferred from another conference.

Tomatoes. Diced too small for the kids to pick out. They will try anyway.

Cheese. Guarded by one woman with a serving spoon and the eyesight of a Pathfinder leader. Two pinches. She counted.

Sour cream. One dollop, handled like a baptismal certificate.

Olives. Black, sliced, and worn on the fingertips of every child under ten.

Salsa. Mild. Medium is for the youth pastor.

Ridiculous

Sliced Big Franks coins. A haystack with a savings account.

A scoop of Special K Loaf. Leftovers with ambition.

Gravy, because someone’s aunt insists. Nobody has ever said no to the aunt.

Nuteena on the side. Discontinued in 2005, still in somebody’s pantry, still being saved for a special occasion.

Cottage cheese pretending to be sour cream. Fooling no one. We respect the effort.

Crushed Saltines when the Fritos ran out. A dark Sabbath. We don’t talk about the deacon who brought one bag.

Leftover potluck macaroni salad. Technically a side. Spiritually a topping.

A Choplet balanced on top like a crown. Uneasy lies the head that wears a Choplet.

Pineapple. Brought by the new family, and nobody has the courage to tell them.

However you stack it, there is room at the table. Jesus fed five thousand people, and He never once asked who took extra cheese.

Photo: “Taco salad” by milo-photo, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons. Cropped, text added. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Taco_salad_(21881249691).jpg