Since I work from home, I eat lunch with my son almost every day. Yesterday, we were sitting at the kitchen table having sandwiches and chips when I decided to ask him about something I heard recently that had me confused.
Me: Hey, have you ever heard of a prayer team?
Son: Prayer TEAM?
Me: Yep. She said team.
Me: I have a lot of questions about a prayer team.
Me: What kind of jerseys do they wear? Do they have cheerleaders? Are there referees?
Son: [shaking his head no]
Me: Is there a championship where prayer teams battle it out for God’s response? Does the winning team get a trophy? Do they pour Gatorade over the prayer coach’s head? There would have to be a coach, right?
Son: No, mom. You’ve got it all wrong.
Me: No coach?
Son: No. A prayer team is not an athletic team.
Son: You know how your husband always refers to his coworkers as his team? A prayer team works in an office.
[He gets up and points to an imaginary PowerPoint presentation on the wall.]
Son: [using his best corporate manager voice] TEAM! As you can see, our prayers are down 30% this quarter. Now, I want everyone on their knees the rest of the week. We need to get these numbers up.
I laughed and took a sip of my Diet Coke.
Son: [sitting down at the table] Then, I’d probably get sued for sexual harassment for telling my coworkers to get on their knees.
I’m still recovering from shooting Diet Coke out of my nose.