Sunday, February 21, 2010

Baby Music

Hear the story read by the author.

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Church member Carrie Winslow recently gave birth to a baby boy named Scott. Last Sunday she and her husband Carlos brought Scott to church for the first time.

Carrie was not known for her punctuality, but this Sunday morning she made sure to leave extra early. Having a newborn meant every trip took roughly three times as long as it had before and she didn’t want to disrupt the service by entering in the middle.

Thanks to her foresight, she wheeled the stroller bearing her bundle of joy into the sanctuary seven whole minutes before service was scheduled to start. Carlos staggered behind, loaded down with close to a dozen bags of baby accoutrements that together weighed half as much as a small automobile.

Young Scott Winslow was greeted like a rock star by several of the women of the church. Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum was the first to run up, squealing in delight.

Michelle was twenty-eight and loved kids. Every time she saw one her biological clock started spinning like a merry-go-round. She crouched down in front of the stroller and began making nonsensical cooing sounds.

Missy Moore, a bubbly forty-four year-old single woman, soon joined her. Jill Boyer crowded in next to them. Jill had two daughters of her own. After each was born she swore she would never have another child. But the sight of an infant dispelled all recollection of those vows and she started dreaming about how nice it would be to have another baby of her own.

Seventy year-old Henrietta Miggins passed by the crowd. She paused only briefly to note the cause of the commotion before moving on to her seat. Henrietta was not the kind of person to get caught up in the sort of rock star fervor Scott had engendered.

Carrie watched the chorus of cooing women for a few minutes. Finally she cleared her throat and said, “Well, I better get seated. Service is going to start soon.”

That reminded Pastor Michelle that she was actually leading service that morning. She rushed up the aisle toward the pulpit. However Henrietta intercepted her ten yards from the chancel. “May I have a word, pastor?” Henrietta said.

“It’s time to start the service,” Michelle protested.

“It’s actually one minute past time,” Henrietta replied. “However I think you ought to tell that Winslow girl that babies do not belong in church.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Michelle said. “Children need to feel welcome here or they won’t come back as adults.”

“Babies are a distraction,” Henrietta huffed. “When you’ve had a little more experience you’ll understand.”

Michelle felt her blood boil at the dig but had no time for an argument. “We’ll discuss this later,” she said, then dodged around Henrietta and up into the chancel.

Meanwhile, Carrie, Carlos and Scott had set up camp in the last pew on the left hand side of the sanctuary. They picked that location because that was where Carlos had collapsed under the weight of the baby gear.

The back left section of the church proved popular that morning. Jill and her husband Kevin secured seats at the right end of the pew just in front of the Winslows where Jill could peer into the stroller by leaning back slightly.

“Isn’t he cute?” Jill said to her husband.

“Sure,” Kevin replied. He actually thought the baby looked like some kind of overcooked turnip. It wasn’t Scott in particular – Kevin thought all babies resembled vegetables more than humans. But he had learned to keep that particular view to himself ever since a certain three-day argument he and Jill had shortly after the birth of their daughter Susie.

Michelle managed to get the service started only four minutes late. Scott slept through most of it, waking up just as Michelle launched into her sermon. About a minute later he began to fuss. The fussing was loud enough that Carrie thought she better take the baby outside.

Up in the pulpit Michelle saw Carrie getting up. Michelle glanced down at Henrietta who had a smug I-told-you-so smile on her face. The smile annoyed Michelle a lot more then the fussy baby.

“Carrie, you don’t have to leave,” Michelle said. Carrie looked up, startled. “Please, stay,” Michelle continued. “Babies’ cries are like the music of life. And let’s not forget that Jesus said, ‘let the little children come to me’ when He was teaching.”

Carrie sat back down and Michelle continued the sermon. Carrie tried rocking and bouncing Scott, but his cries just grew louder. Michelle increased her own volume to match. Meanwhile Henrietta’s smile grew more and more smug.

As appreciative as Carrie was for Michelle’s kind words, she thought even the music of life could grow tiresome at this volume. She started to get up again, but Michelle caught her eye and shook her head sharply. Carrie sat back down.

Scott continued to explore the power of his little lungs. Slowly the crowd around Carrie began to shift away from her, cramming into the far ends of the pews. Eighty-six year-old Donald East turned off his hearing aids. Henrietta simply enjoyed watching Michelle shout desperately into the microphone.

Michelle wrapped up her sermon early – not because of the baby, she told herself, but because they’d gotten a late start. As soon as Michelle announced the closing hymn, Carrie bolted for the door with Scott. The entire congregation breathed a sigh of relief.

By the time everyone adjourned to the Social Hall for coffee hour, Scott was happily dozing again and his entourage of admirers had returned.

Kevin collected his daughters Mary and Susie from Sunday school. They came up to the Social Hall to find Jill holding little Scott with a look of bliss Kevin had not seen from her in a long time. Susie ran up to her mother waving a piece of paper.

“Mommy, mommy,” Susie shouted, “look what I made!”

Jill felt Scott start to squirm in her arms and quickly shushed Susie. “I’ll look later. I’m holding Carrie’s baby right now.”

“Come on, Susie,” Kevin said. “Let’s go get some juice.” Susie shuffled off with him to the refreshment table, then found a spot on a couch next to Henrietta Miggins.

“Where’s your mother?” Henrietta asked sharply. She didn’t care for the company of toddlers any more than she did the company of infants.

“Holding the baby,” Susie replied. “I don’t like it.”

“The baby?” Henrietta asked.

“Yes,” Susie said.

“Me either,” Henrietta grunted.

“Want to see the picture I drewed?” Susie asked.

“Sure,” Henrietta said. Despite her aversion to toddlers this one didn’t seem too bad. Susie handed her the drawing and an unfamiliar warmth grew in Henrietta’s seventy-year-old heart.

Then Susie spilled her juice down the side of Henrietta’s leg.

The following Sunday Carrie took Scott directly to the nursery.

No comments: