You know a guy. His wife is one of us. He is not. He and you butcher animals together. Most recently, your two hogs two weeks ago.
He is a little rough. Last time you were out together, he makes a point of buying chaw and chewing it. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says,” but if you did I’d do it anyway.” You work to conceal your amusement.
This weekend you baptize your middle daughter. Afterwards, you notice that he came. He leans against the wall in the back. He looks embarrassed. He won’t catch your eye.
Your wife talks to his wife. Your wife tells you the conversation that night. “You know what he said? He told his wife, truculent, ‘I don’t care what you do, but I’m going to the baptism.’”
“No,” you say.
“Yes,” she says. “But there is more.”
“You know his wife and kids are late to church a lot?” she says.
“Sure,” you say. He won’t come, so you sympathize with her showing up late a lot.
“Not anymore,” your wife says. “Not for a couple of months. He found out they were being late, so now he gets up early to kick them out the door an hour sooner.”
You do not work to conceal your amusement.