Suddenly I felt like I was in a Harlequin Romance novel. His words couldn’t have been sweeter. I heard strings from a violin. I felt the gentle touch of a concert pianist. This evening couldn’t have gone any better if I had planned it myself. Okay, maybe I did plan some of it. But not this part. This part was inspired. Surely the next words from his mouth would be a proposal. Be still my beating heart. Be still.

“Sister Montana, I believe in my heart that you would make a mighty fine first lady. Mighty fine.” His words were by far the closest thing to a proposal I’d had since William had asked me to marry him in the third grade. “But there is one challenge. One little mountain must be removed. But how many of you know that if you have faith the size of a mustard seed…oh, I don’t think ya heard me. I said if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to that mountain ‘Be ye removed!’ and it shall be removed! Do you have faith?”

Even in his challenge, Curtis was inspirational. Once again I felt like I was in the pew, being ministered to. Being motivated. Being made better. Whatever the challenge, whatever the mountain, I knew in my heart it could be and it would be removed.

“Yes, Curtis, I have faith.”

“Why don’t you take a seat, Montana?” Uh oh. Suddenly the mountain started to grow rocks. There was the cabin pressure again, shifting.

“Sister Montana, you are well aware that we are in the South. The deep South. People in the South are traditional. Old fashioned. Set in their ways, if you will. The missionary board had a few concerns about your sundress. For their taste, it wasn’t appropriate for a potential first lady. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“No,” I responded. “Not at all. Actually, I’m relieved. I thought it was something big. The sundress is no problem at all. Actually, I would have worn something else, but it’s the only thing I had with me. That’s not a mountain, Curtis. That’s more like a molehill. The sundress is gone. Is that it?”

“No, not quite.”

“Oh. What else?”

“The earrings. They said you reminded them of Jezebel. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Bible, but Jezebel was a harlot.”

“They called me a harlot?”

“Actually, they called you a ho. I thought harlot sounded nicer. Oh, and the hair. Too much bouncing and not enough behaving. And the makeup too. They said you looked like you were about to audition for the Universal Soul Circus.” Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper and began to read from the list. Clearing his throat, he continued.