No Tea and Sympathy

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Last Wednesday the church’s Senior Pastor, Henry O’Donnell, woke up with a nasty cold. He lay in bed for an hour coughing and sniffling and debating whether he could make it through a day of work.

He decided he could not.

He waited until just after nine when church secretary Tammy Billings would be in the office and called in. “I’m sick,” he told her. “I’m going to stay home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tammy said sympathetically. “What do you want to do about the apportionment paperwork? It’s due today.”

Henry moaned. He had been putting off the chore for weeks. Paperwork was the least favorite part of his job. And any paperwork relating to finance was the worst – especially this year when church income had fallen significantly. But turning the paperwork in to the district office late would only mean more headaches down the line.

“Okay,” Henry finally said. “I’ll come in and do it. But then I’m going straight back home.”

Henry dragged himself out of bed and pulled on sweats and a baseball cap. “Why does this stuff always happen to me?” he said to no one in particular.

“Good morning,” Tammy said brightly when Henry stomped into the office an hour later.

“Wish it were,” he grunted.

“Karen Winslow called,” Tammy replied, holding out a message slip.

“I’ll call her back tomorrow. As soon as I finish the apportionment paperwork I’m outta here. So please don’t bother me with anything that isn’t absolutely urgent. And why is it so cold in here anyway?”

“The heat’s on the fritz again,” Tammy told him. “The repairman’s coming to fix it tomorrow.”

“That’s just great,” O’Donnell muttered and lumbered into his office.

“You know he’s going to say we need to replace the furnace,” Tammy called after.

“Yeah,” O’Donnell replied. “We’ll do that as soon as someone dies and leaves ten thousand dollars to the church.”

Henry sat in his office coughing and sneezing loudly and with some regularity. Despite his best efforts, Tammy seemed oblivious to his agony.

After about fifteen minutes he trudged back out to the front office. Normally he drank coffee in the morning, but his throat was killing him. He opened the box of tea bags that was by the coffee maker and microwave on a credenza across from Tammy’s desk.

The box was empty.

He turned to Tammy. “We’re out of tea bags.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “I used the last one.”

Henry eyed the mug sitting by Tammy’s computer. The tag of her tea bag dangled over the rim taunting him. “Are there more in the kitchen,” he asked.

“I think they’re in the storeroom downstairs,” she replied.

Henry watched Tammy clacking away at her keyboard. She showed no signs of volunteering to retrieve another box of tea in the near future. It looked like poor, sick Henry was going to have to do it himself. He coughed particularly violently as he went out.

“You do sound bad,” Tammy called after, not looking up from her computer.

Henry tromped downstairs where he discovered the changing table from the nursery had been moved into the hall and was blocking the storeroom door. He looked around hoping someone would materialize to hear him complain about the discourtesy, but he was alone. He shoved the unwieldy table back into the nursery.

The nursery looked like a disaster area. All the cupboards had been opened and the contents stacked in various piles around the room. Half full boxes cluttered the small table.

When Henry got back to the main office he asked Tammy if she was aware that someone had vandalized the nursery.

“Very funny, pastor,” Tammy said. “Karen started to clean it out on Sunday but then she got really tired. She said she’s been feeling tired a lot lately. Probably has something to do with Carrie and her husband living with them. “

Karen Winslow was a Sunday school teacher at the church. Her daughter Carrie was expecting her first child. It had been a year since the last infant at the church and the nursery had become a depository of odds and ends in that time. Henry had known the chore needed to be done for a while and was glad Karen took it on, but he hated when people didn’t finish what they started.

“How long is she going to leave it like that?” he grumbled.

“I’m sure she’ll finish it up this Sunday.”

“I hope so,” Henry said. “Do you know why she put the changing table in the hall?

“She says we need a new one,” Tammy replied. “That one is pretty beat up.”

“If she wants a new changing table she can donate one,” Henry snapped. He was certain the one in the nursery was fine. It was most likely just a case of first time grandparents wanting the finest luxuries for their little bundle of joy. The church couldn’t afford to buy a new changing table every time somebody had a baby.

Henry put a tea bag into his mug, filled it with water, and stuck it in the little microwave. He hit the start button.

There was a bang and a small shower of sparks. Tammy yelped.

The microwave sat silent, it’s digital display dark. Henry tentatively hit a few buttons. Nothing happened.

“I guess we’re going to need a new microwave,” Tammy said.

Henry started laughing.

“Why is that funny,” Tammy asked.

“Oh, just God’s little practical jokes,” he said. “You’d think if he was going to drag me out of my sick bed to come into the office to do paperwork he’d at least let me have a cup of tea.”

Tammy considered pointing out that his predicament might have less to do with God’s sense of humor than the pastor’s own procrastination. But instead she just suggested he heat some water on the stove in the kitchen.

“Nah, forget it,” Henry replied. “I’m just going to finish the paperwork and go home.”

The phone rang. Henry waited while Tammy answered it. After listening to the caller for a few seconds she covered the mouthpiece and said, “It’s Karen Winslow again.”

Henry sighed. “My throat hurts too much to argue about the changing table today. Take a message.”

Fifteen minutes later Tammy popped into his office. “Brought you something,” she said. She set a steaming mug of tea on his desk.

Henry beamed. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem,” she said. “I wanted a second cup myself.”

The phone rang in the front office and Tammy went to answer it. Henry picked up the mug of tea feeling almost giddy with anticipation. It was too hot to drink yet so he blew on it to cool it down.

Tammy poked her head back into the room. “Del’s on the phone now.”

Del was Karen’s husband. Henry wanted to talk to him even less than he wanted to talk to Karen. “Can’t they take a hint,” Henry asked.

“He insists it’s urgent,” she replied.

“Okay,” Henry grunted and picked up the phone.

“I’m sick and I’m having a really bad day,” Henry said by way of greeting. “This better be important.”

“Karen was diagnosed with leukemia yesterday,” Del said.

Henry closed his eyes. “I’ll be right there,” he replied.

He grabbed his coat and headed for his car. The cup of tea sat forgotten on his desk.

This story line will continue. For more information on leukemia, visit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

The Baby Shower

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. A few months ago church member Carrie Winslow-Lopez announced she was pregnant with her first child. Fellow member Missy Moore was inordinately thrilled by this news and thought the church should throw Carrie a baby shower. Missy and Carrie were not particularly close friends, but Missy loved planning showers of all types.

Carrie and her husband Carlos gladly accepted. Not only were they flattered at Missy’s thoughtfulness, but both had recently lost their jobs so they kind of needed the gifts.

Missy’s first decision was to make the shower co-ed. After all, she reasoned, why should the guys miss out on all the fun?

Kevin Boyer had no trouble coming up with good reasons. The primary one was that it all sounded like a lot of girly nonsense to him.

Kevin worked out an elaborate excuse involving an important weekend business obligation. Unfortunately his wife Jill knew Kevin’s only real obligation was to a televised golf game that had nothing to do with his job. She informed him he would, in fact, be attending the shower. “Why,” Kevin whined.

“Because it would be rude not to,” Jill snapped. “Besides, you’ll have fun.”

After arguing the point in vein for several days, Kevin finally relented and turned his attentions to convincing his buddy Thad to go as well. Kevin figured he’d enjoy himself more if his friend was also suffering.

Kevin certainly needn’t have worried that he would be the only man there. Carrie’s husband Carlos was naturally obligated to attend, as was her father, Del. And it would have been poor form for Pastor O’Donnell to be absent. Organist Walter Tibble happily checked the “yes” box on his RSVP. He had never been to a baby shower and was curious to see how they worked. Like most organists, Walter was a little weird.

Kevin may not have been exactly eager to attend but he did hold out hope for a fun afternoon. After all, since it was co-ed he assumed Missy wouldn’t make the event too girly. Those hopes began to fade, however, as he and Jill entered the social hall and found it festooned in pink and white ribbon and balloons with cardboard pictures of babies taped up every five feet.

Before long Kevin was huddled with the rest of the men in one corner of the social hall sipping punch while the women laughed and compared parenting stories in a ring of folding chairs Missy had set out.

One of Missy’s favorite things about showers were the games and she had a long list prepared. For the first, she gave everyone a pink plastic clothespin upon entering and informed them that if they said the words “baby” or “pregnant,” the first person who heard them got to take their clothespin and any others they’d collected. Whoever had the most clothespins by the time cake was served got a prize.

Walter collected the first clothespin among the group of guys when Pastor O’Donnell commented that he hadn’t attended his own wife’s baby shower. “You said a forbidden word,” Walter chortled. O’Donnell sighed and handed over his clothespin.

“I didn’t go to my daughters’ baby showers either,” Kevin immediately said.

“Clothespin!” Ralph shouted.

Kevin handed it over thankfully. He was not really a fan of party games.

The rest of the men were good sports and tried to watch what they said, but before long Walter had collected all six of the clothespins initially handed out to the guys. He clipped them proudly down the front of his shirt.

Then Missy announced that it was time to play “Identify the Baby Food.” She had peeled the labels off eight jars of baby food and everyone was to guess what the mush inside was from appearance and smell. While the other guests crowded around the row of tiny jars, Kevin excused himself to go to the restroom.

Once Missy tallied up all the entries, she announced the winner: Walter Tibble. Walter leaped to his feet with a victory whoop, hands thrust into the air. “He got a perfect eight for eight,” Missy noted.

“How do you know so much about baby food?” Jill asked in amazement.

“Clothespins!” Walter shouted in response to Jill’s slip of the tongue. He collected the three clothespins she’d acquired on his way up to get the prize for the baby food game – a jar of applesauce. Missy did have a wacky sense of humor.

The next game was “How Big is Mommy’s Tummy?” Each participant was to cut a string at the length they thought would encircle Carrie’s pregnant belly. Whoever got the closest to her actual circumference won.

Now it was Pastor O’Donnell’s turn to visit the bathroom. He didn’t need to, but nineteen years of marriage made him uncomfortable when it came to guessing the size of women’s bodies.

When the strings were collected and compared to the one Carrie had cut, they discovered Walter had won again. Walter did a little victory dance as he collected his prize – a box of multi-colored ribbons.

“Okay,” Missy said as Walter skipped away. “The next game is the Bottle race. We’ll see who can suck a baby bottle dry the fastest.”

At this point Thad noticed that neither Kevin nor Pastor O’Donnell had returned to the party. He decided to investigate.

Walter was the winner of the baby bottle race, too, though Del gave him a run for his money. After consuming so much liquid in such a short period of time, Del found he had to use the restroom. And it was at this point that people started to notice the absence of so many of the men.

But then everyone became distracted by Missy’s next game – a version of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey where contestants tried to pin a paper baby on the pregnant belly of a blown-up photo of Carrie. Walter won again.

“Walter, maybe you should go look for the other men,” Jill suggested grumpily.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Walter replied. “What’s the next game?”

“Guess the Chocolate,” Missy said. That game involved candy bars melted in baby diapers. The goal was to guess what kind of candy bar had been used in each.

“I’ll find the other guys,” Carlos said, eyeing the diapers uneasily. Carrie caught his look and got a premonition of the coming arguments over who was going to change their baby.

Ten minutes later the women watched in disgust as Walter claimed yet another prize. Jill looked around. Walter was the only man left in the room. She had a nagging feeling her husband might be behind this strange phenomena and decided enough was enough.

She headed back to the bathrooms and was about to knock on the men’s room door when she heard voices from a Sunday School classroom a few feet away. She peeked inside.

There were all the missing men, perched precariously on small plastic chairs around a kid’s height table playing poker for thumbtacks.

Jill cleared her throat. The men looked up. “Hi honey,” Kevin said. “Look, we made up our own shower game.”

Jill simply glared. Without another word, the guys put away their cards and returned to the party.

As they reentered the social hall, Walter beamed at them, his prizes cupped in his arms. “I won every game!” he gloated. “I’m the shower game king, baby!”

“Hey, you said a forbidden word,” Kevin noted.

Walter’s face fell. He tried to protest that he had used the word in a context that gave it a different meaning and thus it shouldn’t count, but everyone backed Kevin. Finally Walter reluctantly handed over his collection of clothespins.

“Kevin wins the clothespin game,” Missy declared. Walter pouted while she presented Kevin his prize – a gift card to a local Italian restaurant.

“Now it’s time for cake,” Missy declared.

Soon the guys had reunited in their original corner. “I think I kinda like these co-ed baby showers,” Kevin said around a mouthful of cake.

Walter just grumbled to himself.

The Devilish Pastor Michelle

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. This Halloween, the church’s 28 year-old associate pastor, Michelle Tellum, had been invited to a costume party by her new boyfriend, Ian Wells.

Michelle was excited about the party, but not so excited about wearing a costume. Michelle and Ian had not been together very long so Michelle wanted to show him that she was a fun person. But picking a costume was tricky for a woman of the clergy. A lot of the store-bought costumes were very sexy and Michelle dreaded the thought of someone from the congregation finding her picture on the Internet dressed in a skimpy nurse or pirate outfit.

After Michelle considered and dismissed dozens of costumes from an online store as either too risqué or too lame, she stumbled across one she thought was just perfect: a devil costume. The red unitard came with a demure skirt and the irony of a pastor dressed as a devil fulfilled the fun requirement.

Katie O’Donnell, on the other hand, was looking for the sexiest outfit she could find. Katie was Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s fifteen year-old daughter. She had recently broken up with her boyfriend, Joe. She was going to a big Halloween party with her friend Tabitha and knew that Joe would be there. Katie really wanted to wear something that would make him jealous. The only obstacle to her plan was her father and that wasn’t much of an obstacle. He was pretty easy to fool.

Katie settled on a skimpy barbarian warrior getup. She knew Joe played a video game that starred a similarly attired female barbarian. Of course Katie couldn’t match the game character’s digital curves but then no flesh and blood woman could.

To get out the door past her father Katie wrapped a sheet around herself toga style so that it covered the leopard print loincloth and halter and told him she was going as an ancient Greek goddess. When he asked which goddess wore a helmet with horns, Katie replied, “Did I say Greek? I meant Norse.” The senior O’Donnell grunted his approval and Katie was off.

Meanwhile, Michelle was putting the finishing touches on her make-up when her doorbell rang. She looked out her peephole but nobody was there. She opened the door anyway.

A zombie leaped out at her with an earsplitting howl!

“Come on in, Ian,” Michelle said. “I’m almost ready.”

The zombie Ian frowned. It was not the reaction he had hoped to get. He shuffled in picking at a plastic wound on his arm.

“Oh, don’t pout,” Michelle said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve been to seminary. I don’t scare easily. I really only have one phobia.”

“What’s that?” Ian asked.

“I’m not telling!” She laughed. She gathered her things and realized something was missing. “Oh no, I left my pitchfork at the church.”

“That’s okay,” Ian said. “We can swing by on the way to the party.”

They went down to the car where Ian had left a large and very realistic fake spider on the passenger seat. “Sorry,” Michelle said as she tossed it in the back. “Not spiders.”

By this time the teenagers’ party was in full swing. Katie looked ravishing in her barbarian costume, but you wouldn’t know it from Joe’s reaction. He seemed to have eyes only for Amber who was dressed as Medusa in a short tunic and a wig of fake snakes. Katie began to wish she had gone as a Greek goddess so she would have an excuse to smite the meddling Medusa.

Joe and Amber left the party together after about an hour and a half. Tabitha found Katie sitting in a lawn chair by herself, moping. “Forget Joe,” Tabitha said. “Every other guy here is staring at you. I think you’re going to end at least three relationships tonight.” It did not cheer Katie up.

What Katie didn’t know was that Joe’s disinterest was all an act. In fact he had been driven to such heights of jealousy by Katie’s outfit that he could not stop thinking about her even when Amber suggested they park somewhere and make out. Joe’s immature teenage hormones channeled his jealousy into thoughts of revenge. “I’ve got a better idea,” Joe told Amber. “Let’s go TP the church.”

“I don’t know,” Amber said. “It’s kind of bad karma to mess with a church, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be superstitious,” Joe told her as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot to buy toilet paper.

About this time Ian and Michelle were turning into the staff parking area at the back of the church. “Wait in the car,” Michelle told Ian. “I’ll be right back.”

Ian did not follow instructions. He didn’t buy Michelle’s claim of icy fearlessness and decided to put it to the test. He hid in the bushes by the back door of the church.

Michelle quickly retrieved her plastic pitchfork, but as she came out of her office she heard some strange noises from the front of the church and decided to investigate.

The noises Michelle heard were being made by Joe who was giggling as he tossed rolls of toilet paper over the tree in front of the church. Amber sat on the front step, toying with the wig of rubber snakes in her lap. She had a knot of guilt in the pit of her stomach and was wishing she had stayed at the party.

The door opened behind Amber. She looked back and saw Satan silhouetted in the doorway waving a pitchfork. Amber screamed and instinctively hurled the rubber snake wig at the devil before bolting away.

Michelle reflexively caught the wig. The one thing that she was afraid of, it turns out, was snakes. When she looked down in the dim light and saw that she was holding what appeared to be a knot of dozens of snakes, she also screamed, tossed the wig away, and sprinted back through the church in mindless terror.

She was still sprinting when she came out the back parking lot door. Zombie Ian grabbed her shoulder as she passed and got a punch in the eye for his efforts.

Michelle regained her senses when she saw Ian sprawled out on the sidewalk. “Oh Ian,” she said, “I’m so sorry. I just thought I saw…”

She trailed off. “What?” Ian asked blearily.

“Nothing,” she replied. “You scared me, that’s all.”

“I did?” Ian asked with a grin.

“Yeah,” she said. “You got me. Nice job. Let’s go inside and put some ice on your eye.”

On the other side of the building Amber was demanding that Joe take her home. Joe’s back had been turned so he hadn’t seen what had scared her so badly. Amber wouldn’t tell him, but insisted they leave immediately. Joe reluctantly complied even though he’d only got two strands of toilet paper over the tree.

As they pulled away he noticed a light in the church kitchen. Through the window he saw a zombie making out with the devil while the devil held a bag of frozen peas to the zombie’s eye.

“Did you know the devil was a woman?” Amber asked.

“Doesn’t surprise me at all,” Joe replied.

Happy Halloween!

Youth Group Service

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. The church had a tradition that every year one Sunday service is turned over to the teenagers in the youth group to lead. This year, Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell assigned new Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum to supervise this event. At the tender age of twenty-eight, O’Donnell saw Michelle as practically one of the youth herself.

Michelle took to the task with gusto. Unfortunately the teen youth group was a little on the small side. It consisted primarily of Pastor O’Donnell’s fifteen year-old daughter Katie, Katie’s friend Tabitha, Katie’s boyfriend Joe and one twelve year-old named Becky. Becky was really too young to be mixed in with the high schoolers, but she was the only junior high age kid at the church. Besides, Becky was actually the most mature of the group.

Michelle gathered the four members of the youth group a few weeks before their service to make plans. “Our first job should be to divide up the parts of the service,” she said. “Let’s start with the sermon. Who would like to deliver the sermon?”

Becky’s hand shot into the air. Michelle patiently waited for any more volunteers but all the other hands remained firmly in their owners’ laps.

“You really want to give the sermon,” Michelle asked Becky.

“No,” Becky said. “Well yes. What I mean is, why don’t we do a play for the sermon?”

“That’s a good idea,” Michelle said.

“And I’ll write it and direct it,” Becky added.

Michelle could imagine the older kids reactions to Becky bossing them around. “Or…” Michelle said, “maybe you could write it and I’ll direct it. That way you can take a part. What do you think?”

Becky considered the offer. After a few minutes she broke into a big smile and said, “Okay,” much to Michelle’s relief.

They divided up the rest of the tasks – reading scripture, doing the prayer, making announcements and collecting offering – then agreed to meet back in a week to do a read through of Becky’s play.

The play was to be based on the story of the Good Samaritan. Becky crafted an epic filled with dramatic monologues that ran thirty minutes on first reading. Michelle insisted that it must be cut down to ten minutes, and after much weeping and gnashing of teeth from Becky, they achieved that goal.

Katie was to play the story’s robbery victim, Becky did double duty as the priest and the innkeeper, Tabitha played the temple assistant and Joe was assigned the part of the Samaritan. Though the kids were hardly natural actors, Michelle thought the little play quite charming. Becky disagreed. She proposed rehearsing every night of the week to whip the production up to her standards.

In the interest of keeping Becky from being strangled by the other teens, Michelle declined the proposal and instead scheduled a single additional rehearsal the week prior to the service, but urged everyone to memorize their lines before then.

By the end of that next rehearsal even Becky had to agree the play was turning out pretty cool. Michelle beamed with pride as she watched the teens perform. Pastor O’Donnell was going to be very impressed by this year’s youth service, she thought.

When Michelle walked into the sanctuary the morning of the service, however, her optimism began to falter. They had all agreed to meet an hour early for one final run through. When Michelle entered, she saw Katie and Tabitha huddled at the left end of the front pew. Becky sat cross-legged at the other end with a sulky look on her face. Joe was in the far back pew texting on his cell phone. A vague tension filled the room.

“Good morning everyone!” Michelle said as she strode up the center aisle.

The teens all just looked at her. Becky let out a little whimper.

Michelle made her way up to the chancel. She noticed that Katie’s eyes were rimmed red and Tabitha was holding her hand. Something was wrong.

“Tabitha,” Michelle said, trying to keep her voice even. “Come up here a minute.” Michelle thought Tabitha looked the least upset of the three girls.

“What’s going on?” Michelle hissed once Tabitha joined her.

“Well…” Tabitha whispered conspiratorially, “At school on Thursday Julie told Meghan who told Katie that Joe gave Amber a ride home and Katie hates Amber because Amber once made up a mean poem about Katie’s shoes and read it in front of the whole entire English class and besides Katie once went out with a boy Amber likes so Amber always tried to mess with Katie and Joe. So Katie got mad at Joe because he should know better than to give rides to Amber and they broke up. Katie and Joe, I mean.”

“I see,” Michelle said. She looked over at Katie. The poor girl looked crushed. Joe, on the other hand, didn’t look like anything was bothering him at all. Michelle suspected it was an act meant to avoid appearing vulnerable. Teenage boys shunned vulnerability like it was a flesh-eating virus. There was only one thing to do.

Get the rehearsal started.

It’s not that Michelle was unsympathetic to the raging teenage emotions that were at play, but they had a service to perform in exactly fifty-two minutes. The emotions would have to wait.

Michelle called all the kids to join her up front. Joe swaggered up from the back pew striving a little too hard to look bored. When he was seated with the others, Michelle cleared her throat. “Listen up, everyone. I know some of you are not having a very good day. But there’s a saying in show biz that the show must go on. So for the next two hours, let’s forget about everything except doing a great church service, okay?”

The teens all nodded with a marked lack of enthusiasm. But they did nod. Michelle began the rehearsal.

By the start of service, Michelle thought they just might pull this thing off. Katie and Joe were clearly angry at each other but if anything that anger had spurred them to more dynamic performances during the rehearsal.

The first two thirds of the service went gangbusters. Sure, Tabitha read the scripture so fast the congregation could barely understand it, and sure Joe mumbled the prayer so quietly that even with the microphone the congregation could barely hear it, and sure Becky tripped while helping with the offering and had to crawl under several pews to retrieve the scattered donations, but most of the congregation seemed to find the mishaps charming.

Then it came time for the Good Samaritan play.

It all went along pretty smoothly until Joe (as the Samaritan) dropped Katie (as the victim) off at the inn. Joe decided to improvise his lines a little. He instructed Becky’s innkeeper to give Katie a room away from the other guests because Katie tended to blab on incessantly.

Next came the first time in history that the telling of the Good Samaritan story featured the victim thanking the Samaritan by punching him below the belt.

During coffee hour after the service Michelle stood at the back of the social hall feeling completely miserable. Her mood wasn’t improved when she saw Pastor O’Donnell approaching.

“I’m so sorry,” she said before he could launch into any recriminations.

“For what?” O’Donnell asked.

“The service was a disaster,” Michelle said.

“Nonsense,” O’Donnell laughed. “That’s the best youth service we’ve had since I’ve been here. You should have seen the one two years ago. One of the kids threw up in the middle of it. And then again at the end. You did great.”

“Really?” Michelle asked.

“Really,” O’Donnell reassured her. “And I personally liked the part where Katie slugged Joe. I’m actually glad they split up. I never really cared for that little hooligan. But Katie did. She’s sitting on the steps out back and I know from experience that the last person she wants to talk to is her dad. But she might like to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Michelle said.

Michelle went outside and sat down next to Katie. They didn’t talk though. Michelle just put her arm around Katie’s shoulders and let Katie cry.

Save the Prayer Gazebo

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Nestled amongst the willows in one corner of the large lawn behind the church sits a decrepit little gazebo, covered in peeling paint and full of spiders and history. A carved wooden plank hanging from rusted iron hooks at the back of the gazebo declares it to be a gift from Darwin Miggins on May 7, 1953 for the purpose of reflection and prayer.

On a recent Monday Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell and head usher Ralph Billings stood in front of this little gazebo studying a broken floorboard. Said board was broken by four year-old Mary Boyer during a game of hide and seek the previous day. Though Mary was to blame for much of the damage around the church over the previous couple of years, O’Donnell did not hold her responsible in this instance. The wood was clearly rotting. Nobody had used the gazebo for reflection or prayer in many years.

“We ought to just tear this junky thing down,” O’Donnell finally said to Ralph, oblivious to the chaos his statement would cause.

He began to get an inkling of the fallout a few days later when seventy year-old Henrietta Miggins stormed into his office. “What’s this I hear about tearing down the prayer gazebo?” Henrietta demanded. “My grandfather built that gazebo as a gift for this church. It says so right on the plaque inside if you’d bother to look.”

“Henrietta,” O’Donnell sighed, “that gazebo is falling apart. It’s dangerous.”

“Well then fix it.” Henrietta thundered. “I will not have you desecrating my grandfather’s memory!”

“That would cost several hundred dollars,” O’Donnell sputtered. “We don’t have the money for that.”

Which is how the “Save the Prayer Gazebo Fundraiser Barbecue” was born.

The plan came about during the next trustees meeting where Henrietta argued for the vital necessity of the gazebo to the spiritual life of their wayward congregation. Eventually Ralph Billings suggested a fundraiser primarily as a means to get Henrietta to shut up.

The idea to make the event a barbecue came from Del Winslow who like many red blooded American men loved to cook meat over fire. Ralph protested that grilled meat was full of carcinogens. A compromise was reached when it was decided that Del could man a grill for cheeseburgers while Ralph would be free to offer a healthy alternative.

Of course nobody believed Ralph would come up with a healthy alternative that would be more popular than a good old-fashioned char broiled cheeseburger. Not even Ralph, though he would never have admitted it.

Then Ralph happened to have a conversation with choir director Shane Reed. Shane was a foodie. Though he loved a good cheeseburger as much as anyone, he told Ralph about a recipe he had for grilled sweet potato tacos with yellow pepper salsa that were both healthy and incredibly tasty. Ralph’s eyes lit up. He thought that those tacos sounded like they just might appeal to more people than Del’s cheeseburgers.

The barbecue had become a competition.

The event was scheduled for a Sunday after church. When the day arrived, Del set up his charcoal grill to one side of the gazebo while Shane and Ralph placed a propane grill on the other side. A table for salads, chips and drinks was arranged between them. Ralph and Del eyed each other warily across that table while Shane went about slicing up vegetables completely oblivious to the tension.

The day was sunny and mild and the turnout for the barbecue was quite good. Though that might have had more to do with Henrietta than the weather. After church, Henrietta stationed herself at a little table between the parking lot and the back lawn. Anyone who appeared to be heading toward their car instead of the fundraiser was hailed by Henrietta with, “you are coming to the barbecue, aren’t you?” Few who did not have an iron clad excuse at the ready overcame Henrietta’s stern glare. They quickly found themselves plopping some money in the coffee tin labeled “donations.”

Both the cheeseburgers and the sweet potato tacos were a big hit. Though Del and Ralph tried to keep count of how many of each were served, they found it difficult given the volume being consumed. Both men loudly extolled the virtues of their particular cuisine to all who came near. The effect was not unlike competing carnival barkers at a sideshow. The result was that most people took both a burger and a taco.

It became clear the difference might be made by a subtle arrangement of items on the side dish table. The pitchers of lemonade and ice tea were placed on the end near Ralph’s grill. Which meant when people went back to refill their cups, it was easy for Ralph to goad them into taking a second helping of sweet potato taco.

Del recognized this and decided to move a couple of the pitchers to his end, “for people’s convenience” he informed Ralph when Ralph demanded to know what Del was up to. The argument might have come to blows if Pastor O’Donnell hadn’t been returning for seconds at that moment. He reminded the two men that this was all for a good cause. Then he placed a taco and a burger on his plate. He didn’t want to play favorites, after all.

Things remained relatively calm for about twenty more minutes. That’s when Tammy Billings brought out a tray of refills for the empty pitchers. She put two pitchers of ice tea on Del’s side of the table and a pitcher each of lemonade and ice tea on Ralph’s side.

“Hey, where’s my lemonade?” Del asked.

“We ran out,” Tammy informed him. “There was only enough for one pitcher.” Then she beat a hasty retreat. She did not want to get involved in the competition.

Del stomped over and grabbed the single pitcher of lemonade.

“Just what do you think you’re doing now,” Ralph demanded.

“Why do you get the lemonade on your side?” Del asked.

“I have as much right to it as you do,” Ralph replied, pursuing him.

“The kids are all drinking lemonade and kids prefer cheeseburgers,” Del shouted.

“Kids should be eating healthier food,” Ralph responded, grabbing the pitcher.

The intellectual debate devolved into a tug of war over the plastic container. Half the precious lemonade sloshed over the edges. That made the pitcher slippery, and Ralph lost his grip on it rather suddenly.

Del stumbled back, trying not to spill the remaining contents of the pitcher. He didn’t realize his grill was directly behind him. He banged into it, tipping it over. Hot coals scattered across the lawn.

One particularly nefarious coal rolled under the gazebo and ignited a patch of dried grass there. The old, dry wood of the gazebo was also incredibly flammable and before anyone could react, tongues of flame were licking up one side.

“The gazebo’s on fire!” Ralph shouted.

Pandemonium ensued.

Del ran for a hose coiled up at the side of the church. Unfortunately, it was only long enough to reach about halfway across the lawn. He used his thumb to get as much distance on the spray as possible, but was not able to reach the gazebo.

Seeing this, Ralph had another idea. He dashed over to the controls for the underground sprinkler system. A few quick adjustments and jets of water were shooting out all across the lawn. Sadly, the spray of the nearest sprinkler heads only splattered the bottom of the gazebo and by this time the flames had reached the roof.

The sprinklers also served to clear all the attendees off the lawn. All except Henrietta Miggins who stood forlornly, her floral dress hanging damply from her thin frame and tears running down her cheeks as she watched her grandfather’s gazebo burn.

Pastor O’Donnell saw her agony and was moved. He dashed for the gazebo as fast as a man who had just consumed three burgers and three sweet potato tacos could dash. He scooted around the back and yanked the carved wooden plaque from the rusted hooks before the flames could reach it, slightly burning the back of his hand.

Soon several clear-headed people had retrieved fire extinguishers from inside the church and doused most of the flames. The fire department arrived seconds later to finish the job.

An hour after that O’Donnell, Henrietta, Ralph and Del stood together in front of the blackened gazebo.

“I’m so sorry, Henrietta,” Del said.

“Here,” O’Donnell added, handing the plaque to Henrietta. “We’ll build a new gazebo and put your grandfather’s plaque in it to honor his memory.”

“Thank you, pastor,” Henrietta replied.

“We can use the money we raised today,” Ralph said brightly. “How much did we get?”

“One hundred eighty dollars after expenses,” Henrietta informed them.

“Hm,” Ralph thought. “That won’t be quite enough.”

“We can always have another barbecue,” Del said.

“No more barbecues,” O’Donnell replied through clenched teeth.

Which is how the “Replace the Prayer Gazebo Family Picnic Fundraiser” was born.

A Little Friendly Advice

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Michelle Tellum, the pretty new 28-year-old associate pastor, had just started dating a young man by the name of Ian Wells. Ian and Michelle had their first kiss in Ian’s car in the church parking lot just before service one Sunday morning. It was a wonderful kiss, marred only by the fact that it had been witnessed by seventy year-old Henrietta Miggins.

Michelle had little doubt Henrietta would not approve of the associate pastor making out in the church parking lot, but she held out hope that maybe Henrietta’s disapproval would go unspoken. That only showed how new Michelle was to the little church. Henrietta never let her disapproval of anything go unspoken.

The congregation of the church may have been a tad behind in their tithing; they may have been a bit slow to volunteer for mission projects; they may even have been fairly casual in regards to their attendance. But when it came to gossip they constituted an efficient and effective machine. By the end of the service the details of Michelle’s first kiss were familiar to everyone in the building and even a few who had skipped church that morning.

The one exception was Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell. He had missed the gossip partly because he was a tad busy leading the service, and partly because he was always a bit clueless. After the benediction, Henry and Michelle took up posts on either side of the sanctuary doors to greet the congregants as they exited.

Ian was the first out. Henry grabbed his hand in a hearty shake and said, “Hello there. Are you a first time visitor?”

“Second,” Ian said. “I’m a friend of Michelle’s.”

“Ah, well good to have you,” Henry said.

Ian turned to Michelle. “I’ll wait for you at coffee hour.”

Ian went out to the social hall and got a cup of coffee. He stood in the corner trying to look inconspicuous. Within seconds head usher Ralph Billings sidled up to him. “So,” Ralph said casually, “you’re Pastor Michelle’s new boyfriend, eh?”

“Ian Wells,” Ian said, extending his hand. “And I don’t know if I’d use the term boyfriend. We’ve only been out a couple times.”

“I see, I see,” Ralph said, nodding. “Let me give you a little friendly advice. We all love our pastor Michelle dearly. She’s a sweet young woman. And Normal’s a pretty small town if you get my drift.”

“Um, I’m not sure,” Ian said. “Is your drift some kind of threat?”

“Of course not,” Ralph laughed. “I’m just saying that Michelle is young and sweet and nobody here would like to see her get hurt. So just keep that in mind.”

Ian got Ralph’s drift.

Meanwhile, back at the sanctuary doors, Missy Moore, a heavy-set, 44 year-old woman hustled up to Michelle, ignored her outstretched hand, and gave her a hug. Missy was a hugger.

“That boyfriend of yours is a hunk!” Missy exclaimed.

“Well he’s not exactly my boyfriend yet…” Michelle started to explain in a low voice, eyeing the line behind Missy nervously.

“Nonsense! I can tell you two belong together like peanut butter and bacon!” Missy practically yelled.

Michelle was not sure whether that was a good thing, never having combined peanut butter and bacon.

“But,” Missy continued conspiratorially, “let me give you a little friendly advice. You need to put out some honey if you want to catch a fly.”

“Okay,” Michelle said.

“I’m talking about make-up!” Missy clarified. “I can give you some tips that will bring out your best features.”

Michelle glanced up at Missy’s heavy blue eye shadow and excessively tweezed brows. “Thanks,” Michelle said with fairly convincing sincerity. “We’ll have to get together sometime during the week.”

Missy clapped her hands excitedly and moved on.

Back in the social hall, Ian found himself in conversation with Shane Reed, the choir director. Shane was 32, divorced, and had a secret crush on Michelle. He regarded Ian with a big smile and cold eyes.

“So, you and Michelle,” Shane said.

“Yep,” Ian replied.

“Getting serious?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“I see,” Shane said. “Look, let me give you a little friendly advice. Michelle’s great and all, but dating a pastor is a pain. It’s always church, church, church, day and night. Boring!”

“Aren’t you the choir director?” Ian asked.

“Yeah. Anyway,” Shane continued, “you should know there are some real hotties over at the college and they can be pretty wild if you know what I mean. I’d think a guy like you would prefer a woman who’s a little more exciting.”

“So far Michelle’s been pretty exciting,” Ian replied.

“She has, huh.”

“Yep.”

“Well…just think about what I said. You know, about the college girls.” Shane gave Ian a nudge and a wink then went to get a donut.

To Michelle’s relief, the sanctuary had finally cleared out. But before she could go find Ian, Henry put a hand on her arm.

“So,” Henry said, “You’re dating that young man, are you?”

“Uh-huh,” Michelle sighed. Henry was her boss and she really didn’t want to have a conversation about her love life with him.

“Let me give you a little friendly advice,” the senior pastor said. “When you go out on dates, go to another town. Less chance of running into a parishioner that way. But just be aware, no matter where you go, you will run into a parishioner. They’re everywhere. It’s like they stalk you or something. Like sharks. Or polar bears. So, I guess my advice is, no matter where you go, just be careful how you behave.”

“Great, will do,” Michelle said.

“Oh,” Henry added, “and make sure you keep your social life separate from your pastoral duties. Don’t let church business interfere in the relationship.”

Back in the social hall Ian had been cornered by a nicely dressed woman of about fifty with a short, professional haircut. “I’m Jennifer O’Donnell,” the woman said. “Pastor O’Donnell’s wife. I understand you’re seeing Michelle.”

“Yep,” Ian sighed.

Jennifer laughed and gave him a knowing look as though they were both in on a private joke. Ian, however, could not figure out what that joke was. It made him uncomfortable.

“Let me give you a little friendly advice,” Jennifer said. “First of all, don’t let them sign you up for a bunch of stuff. When you’re dating a pastor everyone assumes you’ll volunteer for everything that needs doing around the church. You have the right to say no. Second, repeat names as often as you can so you remember them because everyone at the church is going to know yours. Third, no matter what Michelle says, realize church business will inevitably interfere with the relationship.”

Meanwhile, Michelle had finally made her way to the social hall and spotted Ian and Jennifer. She felt a knot in her stomach as she considered what that particular discussion might be about. She made a beeline for them – only to be intercepted by Katie O’Donnell, Henry and Jennifer’s fifteen year-old daughter.

“Your new boyfriend’s cute,” Katie gushed.

“Thanks,” Michelle replied, “but we’ve only been on a couple dates so I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend yet.”

“Oh,” Katie said. “Okay. Hey, can I ask you a question? Do you believe premarital sex is a sin?”

Michelle looked quickly around to see who might be listening. “Katie, I am not going to talk about my sex life with you!” she hissed.

Michelle started to move past the teen, but Katie said, “It’s just my boyfriend, Joe, he’s a junior and he wants us to get a hotel room for the junior prom.”

Michelle froze. She turned back to Katie. There were tiny tears rising in the girl’s eyes as she bit her lip nervously. Michelle glanced over at Ian. He met her gaze with a pleading look. Michelle shrugged an apology and took Katie’s arm.

“Okay,” she said to Katie. “Let’s go talk.”

Ian would just have to listen to Jennifer’s advice a while longer.

First Kiss

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Michelle Tellum, the pretty, 28-year-old associate pastor, had just started dating a young man by the name of Ian Wells. Ian played guitar in a jazz band, and for their second date he invited Michelle to come hear him perform at a local tavern on Saturday night.

Michelle was really excited to hear Ian play. She knew that staying out late on a Saturday would have an impact on her functionality Sunday morning, but this particular weekend she was only doing supporting duties during the church service so she figured she could handle it.

Michelle was excited for another reason. Her first date with Ian had been over lunch and ended with a hug. She expected this date would end with a kiss. Michelle put a lot of stock in the first kiss. She believed it set the tone for the whole relationship. Michelle thought Ian was clever, dashingly handsome, and gave off just a hint of danger. Those ingredients led her to believe he would be an excellent kisser.

Ian, being a gentleman, picked Michelle up at her apartment. Which was slightly inconvenient because the band had to arrive at the bar several hours before their set to do a sound check. Michelle didn’t mind, though. She thought the whole process was fascinating. And it gave her and Ian time to chat as the bar slowly filled up with customers.

It also gave Michelle time to meet the rest of the band. She was painfully aware that they were sizing her up, but at least they were all polite about it. All, that is, except Ian’s roommate Rico, the band’s drummer, who nudged Ian and said “nice!” upon being introduced. Still, it could have been worse.

A little after 9:30 p.m. the band took the stage. They played a hot, Dixieland style of jazz. Michelle enjoyed the music a lot, though as the evening progressed she had to work hard not to yawn. She was not used to such late nights. Every few minutes Ian would steal a look in her direction and give her a little smile or wink. That would perk Michelle right up and turn her thoughts again to the impending first kiss.

When the band finally finished, Michelle waited patiently as they put away their instruments, hoping her fatigue wasn’t visible on her face. Ian eventually joined her and asked what she thought of the music. She waxed suitably rhapsodic and he was suitably modest in response.

Then they fell quiet. Ian took her hand. This was it, Michelle realized. The first kiss. She would have preferred it didn’t happen in a bar, but sometimes a girl’s got to be flexible. Ian leaned in…

And then Rico threw his arms around both of them. “Dude!” he yelled. “We were awesome tonight. Didn’t you think so, Ian’s girl?”

“Michelle,” Ian reminded him with obvious annoyance. It was clear Rico was drunk. Ian would later explain that was an occupational hazard when the bar provides the band with free drinks in lieu of pay.

“The show was fantastic,” Michelle said.

“I knew I liked you,” Rico slurred. “Ian has good taste.”

“Excuse me a moment,” Ian said and guided Rico away.

Michelle composed herself. She wasn’t going to let the interruption spoil the upcoming kiss.

Ian returned. “Here’s the thing,” he said. “Rico’s too drunk to drive and the other guys have already left. Can we swing by our place so I can drop him off and then I’ll take you home?”

“Sure,” Michelle said. She was a little annoyed, but at least this way the first kiss would be on her doorstep. The traditional aspect of the idea appealed to her.

However, on the way to Ian and Rico’s apartment Rico fell asleep. The upside was that they didn’t have to endure his babbling during the drive. The downside was they couldn’t fully rouse him when they got to the apartment and had to carry him in, one of Rico’s arms draped over each of their shoulders.

“Wait here and I’ll get him into bed,” Ian said when they reached the living room.

Michelle had a seat on the couch. The apartment was surprisingly clean and tastefully decorated considering two guys in their mid-20’s lived there. Michelle particularly admired the framed posters of classic jazz performances that lined the walls. She decided this wouldn’t be too bad a location for a first kiss either.

Ian returned after a few minutes. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Some water, thanks.”

Ian got two glasses of water and sat down beside her. “Rico’s really not a bad guy most of the time.”

“Forget about it,” Michelle replied.

“Thanks for being cool,” Ian said and slipped his arm around her shoulders. She settled against him and let her eyes close, just enjoying his proximity and the sense that she might, indeed, be cool.

The next thing she knew, Ian was shaking her awake. “Mm,” she said groggily, “I must have fallen asleep.”

“So did I,” he told her. “It’s 10 a.m.”

Michelle sat bolt upright. She realized sunlight was streaming in through the windows. “I have to go home! I have to be at church at 10:30.”

“You’ll never make it. I’ll drive you straight there.”

She looked down at her spaghetti strap silk blouse. “I can’t wear this to church!” she exclaimed. “I’m a pastor!”

“Let me see what I can do,” he said and went into his room. Michelle found the bathroom and quickly cleaned herself up. She scrubbed the smeared make-up from her face and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. When she came out, Ian was waiting with a plain blue sweater.

“It’ll be big on you,” he said.

“It’ll work,” she replied and slid it on.

They raced to the church and arrived just after 10:20. Michelle breathed a sigh of relief. “Made it.”

“I’m really sorry,” Ian said. Michelle glanced over. He looked about as miserable as he possibly could.

“It’s as much my fault as yours,” she reassured him.

“Really?”

“Really.” She patted his hand. He closed his fingers around hers.

“Well, you still have eight minutes to kill,” he noted. Michelle smiled. Ian leaned over and kissed her.

It was better than she hoped. She didn’t even notice the seatbelt cutting into her shoulder as she pressed toward him.

“So can I see you again?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” she mumbled, feeling a little lightheaded.

“You better get inside.”

“Uh huh.” Her wits seemed to have abandoned her. He was a really good kisser.

She managed to get out of the car.

And that’s when she noticed seventy year-old Henrietta Miggins standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed, staring directly at her with a disapproving frown. As soon as their eyes met Henrietta turned and stalked inside the church.

“That isn’t good, is it?” Ian asked.

“Uh-uh,” she replied.

Michelle’s euphoria was quickly dissipating.

To be continued…