My husband read this to the boys at the meeting last week. Haha. -----Original Message----- From: Soaring Golden Eagle [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]] Sent: Tuesday, December 11, 2001 4:36 PM To: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Subject: [RR] Heaven at the Best Stop
Grits, root beer, vegemite, and now... boudin! _____ <http://www.cfaith.com/Cfaith/Graphics/email_logo.jpg> Heaven at the Best Stop by Jesse Duplantis I face one of the hardest temptations in the world every time I go to Lake Charles, Louisiana. When I get on interstate 10, I can almost smell the cooking from Best Stop. Best Stop is a restaurant with some of the best Cajun cooking in the state. Dear God, they've got boudin like you ain't never eaten in your life. In case you don't know what boudin is, it's a Cajun sausage with cooked rice mixed right into the stuffing. It's plain good eating! When you walk into that restaurant, you can just smell the cholesterol. I mean, that food will kill you, but you'll die with a smile on your face. Every time we stop there, it's Cathy's fault. Whenever we get near that place, she says, "Jesse, let's get us some boudin." "Oh, Cathy," I say, "don't tempt me, woman. That temptation is talking to me." You see, I love to eat cholesterol. I like hog cracklings, hogshead cheese, and hot boudin. I love boudin. I want the grease, man. I want it where you've got to use Bounty extra-strength paper towels just to hold on to it. Best Stop has the kind of food I'm talking about. Every time we go in there, everyone looks so content. They're so happy eating that grease. You don't see people like that at health food stores. If you go into a health food store, for example, the people you see aren't happy. They look like they have bulimia, and they're anorexic. They're drinking powdered drinks, and they're too thin. Not at Best Stop, boy. I go to the Best Stop, and those bellies are hanging over everywhere. I tell those folks that the food they're eating will kill them, and they say, "Yeah, so what? It tastes good." Actually, you know, I heard of people who ate Cajun food like that all of their lives and lived to be 98 years old. (Of course, they might have lived to be a 140 if they hadn't eaten all the grease they had!) Best Stop is not a fancy place, you understand. It doesn't make any difference who you are. Employees in there will just go, "What you need, huh?" when you're trying to buy something to take home. They sell the ingredients for Cajun cooking, too, but nobody in there is going to get them for you. You can get them yourself. For example, if you're looking for some particular product, they'll just say, "Go down that aisle and look there." You may be yelling, "Down here?" from across the room. They'll just holler back, "Look past the Brawny stuff. Yeah, you see it?" "No." "You want me to come over there?" they're hollering from the front. "No, I got it. Thank you." It doesn't matter if you can't find what you need. Everybody who goes in there has to look for what they need. When my wife gets into Best Stop, she changes from a beautiful, elegant woman to a down-home Cajun. When it comes time to eat boudin, all of a sudden, that Cajun from the Bayou comes out, and she gets down to her roots, man. She comes alive when she sees those hot boudin links. I can see it come upon her. She loves to eat that boudin! And there's a certain way you have to eat boudin. To eat it like a true Cajun, you've got to tear it apart with your teeth. You see, it's sausage that comes in links. That means, sometimes you've got to work at it to get those links torn apart. You've got to put one end in your mouth and pull the other end with you hands while you're going, "Ouh, orgggg, ohhhhgm pull, pull!" You might even need someone to help you pull at the other end to get it apart. Cathy eats that stuff up. She will eat her links of boudin and then wash it down with a diet soda. She really will! She will eat that greasy Cajun sausage and then still wash it down with some diet soda. Usually she turns to me and asks me if I want some too. Can you see me trying to eat some boudin and drive at the same time? It's hard enough to eat boudin in a restaurant. But when you eat it in the car, you've got to turn loose and eat with both hands. And if I've got boudin all over my face, I don't care that I'm doing 65 miles an hour down the interstate. I'll grab a link and start tearing at it while keeping one greasy hand on the steering wheel. Cathy will help me by grabbing the other end of the link with both hands, trying to tear it apart. You can see the headline now, Television evangelist killed with a piece of boudin in his mouth. Some of you - especially you up North - are still trying to figure out what boudin is. It ain't tongues, boy. It's Cajun sausage. Try some. You'll like it. Now you may be asking yourselves, What does boudin have to do with God? Boudin doesn't have anything to do with God! I'm trying to get you to laugh. I know exactly what I'm doing. "What are you saying, Brother Jesse?" you may ask. I'm saying you need to laugh. There's enough junk in the world that will depress you. For example, it's not funny when you see kids on drugs. It's not funny when husbands or wives run out on each other. It's not funny when people are messing up their lives and doing terrible things. It's a lost and dying world out there. I'll do whatever it takes to get through to desperate people. I'll do whatever it takes to glorify Jesus. Sometimes telling a story about some greasy old boudin is the best way to get folks to stop thinking about their problems. When they laugh, I can get them to a place where I can minister to them. That's the way you've got to be with troubled people. Make them laugh, and then slip some of Jesus in on them. Source: Jambalaya for the Soul by Jesse Duplantis Excerpt permission granted by Harrison House Publishers _____ This article was sent to you through CFAITH.com. For a FREE 14-day Site Tour, please click <http://www.cfaith.com/freetour?offercode=EH4E+VBHX> here. 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