Orphans' Thanksgiving

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. The church’s young associate pastor, Michelle Tellum, loves Thanksgiving. She loves the camaraderie of a big gathering of loved ones, the spirit of gratitude, and, most of all, the big, fancy meal. But Michelle’s family lives out of town, and her boyfriend Ian’s parents were spending this year’s holiday in California with the family of his older sister who had recently given birth to their first grandchild.

So Michelle decided to host an “orphans’ Thanksgiving” at the church for all the congregants with nowhere else to go. She would make the turkey and stuffing and others could sign up to bring sides, salads and desserts. She was very excited – it would be the first Thanksgiving she’d ever hosted and she wanted it to be spectacular.

Michelle and Ian got to the church early on Thanksgiving Day to begin the preparations. She had bought nice tablecloths, borrowed some fancy dishware from Ian’s parents, and handcrafted napkin rings out of twigs. While she set all this up, Ian moved the TV from the lounge to the social hall so they could put the football games on. Michelle was not a football fan, but she knew if she didn’t allow this, Ian and probably many of the other guests would just spend the day in the lounge and that would dampen the fellowship she so valued. Besides, guys watching football on Thanksgiving brought back nostalgic memories of her childhood holidays.

Michelle had been brining the turkey since the previous morning. It was a process she’d read about in one of her gourmet cooking magazines. She was just lifting it out of the brine to place it in the roasting pan when the first guest arrived.

It was Thad Wheeling, a thirty-year-old single man who was an infrequent attendee at worship but who played on the church softball team. Thad handed her a casserole dish containing string beans in a Swiss cheese sauce. “Fancy,” Michelle said.

“Thanks, I got the recipe online. It needs to go in the oven for fifteen minutes or so to warm up before we eat.” He looked at the bucket of water with the turkey in it. “What’s going on there?”

“I brined the turkey,” she told him. “It’s supposed to make it a lot more juicy and flavorful. I’m also going to make an apple-walnut-sausage stuffing. It’s my own recipe – can’t wait to see what you think.”

“Actually,” Thad said, “I won’t be able to give you a review. I’ve become a vegetarian.”

Michelle’s face fell. “Oh. I wish I knew. I would have arranged a vegetarian entre.”

“I didn’t want you to go to that kind of trouble. I’ll be fine. I love side dishes and can easily make a meal of them.”

“Tell you what,” Michelle said. “I’ll make a little of the stuffing in a separate dish without the sausage.”

The next guests to arrive were choir director Shane Reed, his girlfriend, Audra, and her six-year-old son Tyler. Shane brought mashed potatoes and Audra brought sweet potatoes. They were calling themselves “Team Potato.” Even Tyler contributed with a can of cranberry sauce.

Then eighty-six year-old Donald East arrived. “Donald,” Michelle said, forcing a smile, “I didn’t know you were coming.” She didn’t know because he hadn’t told her despite clear, bold-faced text on all the announcements that an RSVP was required.

“I brought this,” Donald said, handing her a bag of potato chips. “Ah, you have the game on.” Donald shuffled over to join Ian in front of the TV.

Michelle looked at Shane and Audra and sighed. “I’m sure we can accommodate one extra. I don’t imagine he’ll eat that much.”

“I’ll put these in a bowl,” Shane offered with a wink, taking the bag of chips.

Missy Moore, a bubbly, heavy set, forty-four year-old woman who was always covered in cat hair, arrived shortly after that. She brought two pies, pumpkin and apple. By this time Michelle was at work on her sausage-apple-walnut stuffing. Missy oohed and aahed over the recipe. “It sounds wonderful,” she said. “Unfortunately I don’t like nuts.”

“I suppose I could make a separate batch without nuts,” Michelle said. “I’m already doing one without meat for Thad.”

Missy clapped her hands together. “Oh, that would be awesome! But keep the sausage in mine.”

It took Michelle a little longer than anticipated to get the turkey stuffed and in the oven due to extra effort involved in making three varieties of the stuffing. She was washing her hands when Ian poked his head in. “The Veckenshims called. They’re not coming after all. Pete’s not feeling well.”

“But they were going to bring salad!” she moaned.

“I think we can get by without it,” Ian said. “I mean, nobody goes to Thanksgiving dinner for salad.” A loud roar came from the TV. Ian hurried back to see what he’d missed.

Michelle knew Ian was right about the salads, but she wanted her Thanksgiving to be perfect so she made a quick trip to the grocery store up the street. Fortunately they were staying open until 3 pm for people who needed last minute items.

She’d just finished assembling the salad when Ian came in again. “We’re out of potato chips and everyone’s getting hungry,” he said. “Do we have any other appetizers?”

“I suppose we could put out some cheese and crackers from the coffee hour supplies.”

“Perfect!” Ian headed back to the social hall.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them,” Michelle said to the empty kitchen.

Michelle sliced some cheese and arranged it artfully on a platter with crackers. She checked the turkey and found she still had about an hour to socialize with the guests before it was ready.

She brought the snacks out to the social hall and squeezed in beside Ian on the couch. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then resumed his discussion with Thad and Donald about the relative merits of the zone defense. After ten minutes of trying to comprehend what they were talking about, Michelle decided to visit with some of the other guests.

She walked over to Shane and Audra who were lounging in the far corner of the room. “Am I interrupting?” Michelle asked.

“Not at all,” Audra said. “We were just taking the opportunity for a little adult conversation while Missy entertains Tyler.” She gestured to where Missy and Tyler were seated on a love seat reading a book.

“Great,” Michelle said. “So what are you talking about?”

“Twin Peaks,” Shane replied. “We’ve been watching the DVDs.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Michelle said.

“Oh, it’s brilliant.” Shane launched into a sprawling description of the show, in the midst of which he and Audra got sidetracked into a debate about the meaning of a dwarf that talked backwards. It made even less sense to Michelle than the zone defense, so she politely excused herself and went to join Missy and Tyler.

Missy was reading Tyler a story, or at least she was trying to. Tyler kept embellishing things with improvised subplots based on the pictures in the book. Michelle settled into a nearby chair to listen, and soon drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened when Thad called out, “Hey Michelle, did you remember to put my beans in the oven?”

“I was just about to,” Michelle said, groggily.

A short time later the turkey was carved and everyone was gathered around the table. It had taken two hours longer than Michelle had planned and she hadn’t managed to do much socializing. She was pretty sure this would be the last orphans’ Thanksgiving she would host.

Michelle said grace. The hungry diners lunged for the food as soon as they heard the word, “Amen.” She watched them shovel the turkey and various kinds of stuffing into their mouths with barely a pause to taste it. Michelle found she didn’t have much appetite herself.

And then Missy said, “I have an idea! Let’s go around the table and say what we’re grateful for. I’ll start. I’m grateful for my cats, Cinnamon, Vanilla, Pepper, Salty and Chocolate.”

She looked at Ian who was sitting next to her. “I’m grateful the church has cable so we could watch the games,” he said.

Michelle found she was having a hard time thinking of anything very specific she was grateful for at that moment, so she went to an old standby: “I’m thankful for my health.”

Shane was next. “I’m grateful I found Audra, the love of my life.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Audra said. “I’m grateful for both my boys.” She gave Shane and Tyler each a kiss. Tyler made a face.

Audra asked Tyler what he was grateful for.

“My scooter,” he answered.

Donald was next in line. He was hunched over his plate, mechanically scooping stuffing into his mouth, apparently ignoring the conversation.

“Mr. East,” Missy prodded, “what are you thankful for?”

“Wazzat?” Donald asked, looking up. He was hard of hearing.

“We’re going around the table saying what we’re thankful for,” Missy told him.

“Oh.” Donald thought for a few moments. “I’m thankful for the company. Since my wife passed and our kids live out of state, I was going to have to have Thanksgiving dinner by myself. I’m also thankful for this amazing stuffing. You’re quite a cook, Pastor.”

Then Donald returned his attention to his plate.

Thad was the last in line. “I’m thankful for Pastor Michelle’s hospitality,” he said. “And as a gesture of that gratitude, I’ll take care of the clean up after dinner.” The others quickly offered to help him.

Michelle beamed. “Thank you,” she said. “Pass the sweet potatoes, please.” She had finally found her appetite.

The Sunburn

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Last Sunday morning, Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell stood in his bathroom in his underwear examining himself in the mirror. For the most part, the pastor’s complexion was his usual pasty white. But most of his left arm glowed bright red like a freshly boiled lobster. Which was ironic because a lobster was the cause of his sunburn.

He had been driving back from a meeting in Harrisburg on Saturday at about one in the afternoon, heading for practice with the church softball team, the Miracles. A sack lunch his wife Jennifer had made sat on the passenger seat, though Henry wasn’t enthusiastic about the contents. Jennifer had been attempting to get him to eat healthier for years. It was an uphill battle. The one weapon she had was that Henry didn’t like to cook. So she made him salads and he ate them because it was easier than making something for himself.

He had just about built up enough of an appetite to be tempted by the salad in today’s sack lunch when he passed Muriel’s Seafood Shack. A hand-lettered banner advertised a fresh Maine lobster special.

He knew he shouldn’t stop. He was already going to be late to practice and it was no secret Henry needed more practice than most of the team. The Miracles’ next game was against the Shepherds, a team from a Presbyterian mega-church. They had become something of a rival in the mind of the Miracles’ coach, Shane Reed, as the Shepherds trounced the Miracles every year. Shane had told the team that he intended this year to be different.

Henry spun the car into Muriel’s dirt parking lot. Truth be told, Henry didn’t care nearly as much about beating the Shepherds as Shane did.

“Shack” was an apt descriptor for Muriel’s establishment. Muriel and her small staff did the cooking in an unpainted wooden hut, and the diners ate outside at a motley collection of picnic tables. After getting his fresh lobster platter at the shack’s window, Henry decided to skip the tables and eat in the shade of a nearby tree. He had the salad Jennifer made him as his side dish.

Afterward he decided he better let the big meal settle for a few minutes before engaging in any athletic endeavors. But the day was sunny and warm, and with his belly full of lobster, Henry fell asleep. Unfortunately, his left arm sprawled out of the shade, and thus the sunburn that he was currently examining.

The burn stung, but that wasn’t Henry’s chief concern. Because of his unplanned nap, he’d never made it to softball practice. He had called Shane’s cell phone as soon as he’d woken up and left a message that he had, “been delayed coming home from my meeting.” Henry felt a little guilty that he was vague about what had delayed him, but reminded himself that the commandment was “Thou shalt not lie,” not “Thou shalt not be vague.”

However if Shane saw the sunburn at church that morning he might start asking uncomfortable questions. Fortunately, once Henry put on a long sleeved dress shirt, the only part of the sunburn that was exposed was his hand. It was another warm day, but the church was air-conditioned and it wasn’t at all unusual for Henry to wear a suit to preach, even in the heat of summer. “I’m doing it out of reverence to God, not an attempt to deceive Shane,” he told himself.

All through the service, Henry kept his left hand hidden behind the pulpit, making all his gestures with his right hand. And he tucked his left hand behind his back when he greeted the congregation as they departed the sanctuary. Not a single person noticed the sunburn.

When the sanctuary was empty, he thrust his left hand into his pocket and went into the social hall. He was distressed to see that the mission committee was hosting coffee hour and Missy Moore had brought mini cinnamon rolls. Henry loved mini cinnamon rolls. But he couldn’t figure out a dignified way to hold a plate and eat them with only one hand. So he settled for a cup of coffee.

Shane and Missy joined him. “Did you get some cinnamon rolls, pastor?” Missy asked.

“No,” Henry said, “Jennifer’s been on me to lose some weight.” He privately congratulated himself on the truth of that statement.

“We missed you at practice yesterday,” Shane said.

“I know,” Henry replied. “Some of those meetings I have to attend can be pretty boring.” No lie there, either!

“You missed a hilarious moment,” Missy continued. She was the team’s catcher. “Del was running to home plate and he tried to slide and came to a stop a good three feet short!”

She guffawed, and in her mirth, grabbed Henry’s left arm. Stinging pain shot through him as her fingers dug into the sunburn, but Henry managed to fake a chuckle. He wiped a tear away from his eye with his right forearm and said, “Hilarious.”

Henry downed the rest of his coffee so he would have a reason to excuse himself. As he was refilling his cup, Del Winslow came over.

“I have some books to donate to the reading room,” Del said, “but they’re in my trunk and I hurt my back at softball practice yesterday. Would you mind giving me a hand?”

“Sure,” Henry replied and followed Del out to the parking lot.

“We have to do something about Missy Moore,” Del said as he handed Henry the box of books. “The woman is a menace. Her ineptitude is the reason I hurt my back.”

“Was that when you were sliding into home and came up short?”

“Did she tell you that?” Del demanded. “I came up short because she was playing out of position. If she’d been where she was supposed to be, I would have been able to time my slide properly and I wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“I sympathize,” Henry said, “but Shane’s the coach. This sounds like a matter for him.”

“I agree, and there he is. Shane!” Henry looked over his shoulder and discovered that Shane had just exited the church. Henry quickly shifted the box of books under his right arm and stuck his left hand in his pocket.

Shane joined them and Del proceeded to explain again how Missy’s poor play had resulted in his injury. He then added several other complaints, including her offensive sense of humor, laughing at him when he was injured. Frankly, Henry didn’t think he had much of a case. However, to be fair, the pastor pretty much quit listening after ten minutes. The sun was beating down mercilessly and his arm was aching from the heavy box and he could feel sweat trickling down his back and beading on his forehead and now his arm had gone completely numb and Del’s face was starting to look weirdly blurry…

“Are you alright?” Shane asked, bringing Henry back to the conversation. Both Del and Shane were studying him with concern.

“It’s just, it’s kind of hot out here…” Henry replied faintly.

“We better get you inside before you get heat stroke,” Shane said, taking the box of books from him. As the circulation returned to his weary arm, Henry felt a sudden urge to kiss Shane, possibly a sign that heat stroke had already set in.

They brought Henry into the social hall and Shane got him a cup of water. “Take off your tie and roll up your sleeves,” Del suggested.

“Um, actually, I have a T-shirt in my office. I’ll go change into that.” It was true; Henry did have a T-shirt in the office. A church camp had given it to him as a thank-you for filling in at their chapel service once. It was too small for him, but it would be cooler than his dress shirt.

Henry staggered into his office and closed the door. He immediately peeled off his sweat-soaked dress shirt and tie, and stood under the air conditioning vent, letting the cool air wash over him.

His body temperature had just about dropped back to normal when someone knocked. “Pastor, are you all right?” Shane asked through the door.

“Uh, just a minute!” Henry called. He scrambled for the T-shirt, but realized it would not cover the sunburn on his arm. He turned to get his dress shirt and, in his haste, tripped over his chair. He sprawled on the floor with a thud.

Shane threw open the door, fearful the pastor had fainted.

“What happened!” Shane cried.

“I tripped,” Henry said. “I’m okay though.”

Then Shane noticed his arm. “How’d you get that sunburn?”

Henry sighed. It was time to tell the whole truth.

He explained about the lobster and falling asleep and added a profuse apology for missing practice. When he was done, he waited to see what Shane would say.

Shane thought for several moments. “Tell you what. You handle this thing with Missy and Del and we’ll call it even.”

Henry nodded his agreement. He supposed it was a fitting punishment for not coming clean right away.

Later that afternoon the Miracles lost to the Shepherds once again, but it had nothing to do with Henry missing practice or even Del’s injured back. The Shepherds were just superior ballplayers.

Car Trouble

Welcome to the 100th Little Church Story!  Hope you've enjoyed them as much as I have.

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. Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell has been driving the same car for seven years. His teenage daughter, Katie, often bugs him to get a new one, usually when he’s dropping her off somewhere in front of her friends. And Henry always responds by lecturing Katie on the value of a dollar saved.

Henry’s father would have been proud of him. The old man was a child of the Great Depression and had worked hard to instill a sense of thriftiness in Henry and his siblings. Henry’s father would not have been so proud of Henry’s carelessness in maintaining the old vehicle. Henry just couldn’t seem to keep track of when it was time to change the car’s oil. The consequences of this lack of diligence arrived last Tuesday when the engine seized up as Henry was pulling into the church parking lot.

One advantage of being a pastor, however, was that members of the congregation often stepped in to assist in such situations. Upon learning about Henry’s problem, head usher Ralph Billings referred him to his mechanic buddy, Stan Pike. “I’ll talk to Stan and get you a discount,” Ralph assured Henry.

So Henry had the car towed to Stan’s shop. Stan was a short, thick man who continually rubbed his greasy hands on an even greasier rag. Stan’s analysis of the car was not good. The engine would have to be completely replaced. “But I’ll tell you what,” Stan said, “I’ll do the job for cost.”

“Really?” Henry asked. “That’s very generous.”

“Always glad to help a man of the cloth. Figure it’ll make up some for me never getting to church on Sundays. My poor, sick Mama can’t really be left alone, and Sunday is the nurse’s day off, so I have to stay with her.”

“I’m sure God understands,” Henry said. “But I do appreciate the discount. How long will it take?”

“Not long once I get the parts. Maybe two days,” Stan said.

“Great,” Henry replied. Even with the discount, the repair was going to take a hefty bite out of his savings account. For two days he was sure he could find people to give him rides, and that way he wouldn’t have to rent a car.

Once again, Ralph came to his rescue. Ralph’s wife, Tammy, was the church secretary and Ralph typically drove her to and from work every day. It wasn’t much out of their way to pick up Henry.

Wednesday the arrangement worked beautifully. But when they got to the office Thursday morning, Tammy discovered a message on the voicemail from Carrie Winslow. It seemed her mother, Karen, was in the hospital. Karen was in remission from leukemia and had begun feeling ill. They were worried she might be relapsing. Fortunately, Ralph had time to take Henry over to the hospital to sit with the Winslows.

Even better, it turned out Karen had simply come down with a case of the flu. As Ralph drove Henry back to the church, Henry noticed that it was almost 2 p.m. and he still hadn’t had lunch. He suggested they swing by a fast food drive through.

Ralph was aghast. “You know how bad that fast food is for you?” he exclaimed. “Why it’s chock full of sodium and saturated fats and cholesterol. You know what frying potatoes does to them? It makes them carcinogenic!”

“But I’m hungry and I don’t have time for a real meal,” Henry protested.

“I’ll drop you off at the church and then go get you a healthy organic salad,” Ralph said as they whizzed past the fast food restaurant. Henry looked longingly back at the colorful pictures of chicken wings and soda on the windows.

As Henry was picking at the salad in his office, he called Stan Pike to see if his car was ready. “Taking a little longer than I expected,” Stan told him. “But as the Bible says, ‘patience is a virtue.’” Henry knew that proverb didn’t actually come from the Bible, but didn’t bother to correct the man. “Just be a couple more days,” Stan said. “Give me a call Monday.”

On Friday, Henry’s wife informed him that she had to work late and asked if he could get his own supper. Henry assured her he could. He knew just what he wanted: a rack of baby backs from Big Tommy’s Rib Shack. But then he remembered that Ralph would be driving him home. He suspected Ralph might object to a stop at Big Tommy’s.

Henry decided perhaps he ought to make a follow up call to the Winslows. Carrie answered. “Mom’s fine,” she said. “She’s taking a nap right now so I don’t want to wake her, but I know she’s grateful you came out to the hospital yesterday. Sorry if we wasted your time.”

“Not at all,” Henry said. “But you should thank Ralph Billings, too. He’s been driving me around while my car is in the shop. I’m afraid I’ve been taking advantage of his good nature. And I’m going to have to impose again tonight because the repair is taking longer than expected.”

“I could give you a ride home tonight,” Carrie said.

Henry smiled. “Oh, that would be great. And if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you mind stopping by Big Tommy’s so I can pick up some dinner?”

“My pleasure,” Carrie replied.

Henry was packing up his briefcase at the end of the day when he heard what sounded like a bunch of sirens in the distance. As they got closer, he wondered if a nearby building was on fire. They continued to get even closer. It almost sounded like they were right outside in the front office. Henry peeked out to see what was going on.

What he mistook for sirens were actually the cries of Carrie’s baby boy, Scott. “He’s teething,” Carrie shouted over the wailing. “I decided to get him out of the house so my Mom could rest. He usually falls asleep in the car.”

Scott did not fall asleep in the car this time.

Fortunately they arrived at Big Tommy’s in record time, helped by several cars pulling over to let them pass, apparently having mistaken them for some kind of emergency vehicle. Henry wasn’t sure the ribs would be worth his temporary hearing loss, but once he was inside Big Tommy’s, the smell of barbecue revitalized him.

When Carrie dropped him off, she asked if he might need any rides in the future. “No thank you,” Henry shouted. He had a meeting across town on Tuesday but Stan had said his car would be ready by then.

Unfortunately, when he called Stan on Monday he got more bad news. “See, since I’m not charging you for labor, I was gonna do the work myself instead of giving it to one of my guys,” Stan explained. “We got busy Friday so I was gonna come in on Saturday. But my poor Mama took a turn and we had to spend the day at the urgent care. She’s fine now, God bless her.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Henry said.

“Give me a couple more days,” Stan told him.

That meant Henry needed a ride to his meeting. Since it ended at noon and he would have to get lunch after, he ruled out Ralph. Henry just didn’t think salad qualified as a meal. And since Scott would not likely be done teething yet, he ruled out Carrie.

Missy Moore saved him when she swung by the church to pick up a sweater she’d forgotten Sunday morning. When she asked Henry how he was doing, he couldn’t help unloading to her about his transportation tribulations. “I could give you a ride tomorrow,” Missy said.

Henry thanked her and promised to buy her lunch at a nearby burger joint in return. “I love that place!” Missy exclaimed. Henry grinned.

The next day Missy was right on time. Henry slid into the passenger seat once she moved a stack of papers and fast food wrappers to the back. Missy started the car and Henry almost jumped through the windshield as a blast of heavy metal music exploded from the speakers.

“This is a great song!” Missy exclaimed and began singing along as she screeched out of the parking lot, narrowly missing a passing car. Two minutes later Missy turned the music down. But only because she got a call on her cell phone. Perhaps some people are actually capable of driving safely while talking on the phone, but Missy was not one of them. By the time they reached the meeting, Henry was trembling so badly he could barely walk. The ride back was even worse.

On Wednesday Henry called Stan again. “Ran into a little trouble,” Stan began.

“How much longer?” Henry sighed.

“Couple days. Patience is a virtue.” Henry buried his head in his arms so Tammy wouldn’t hear him weep.

Ten days later Henry’s car was finally ready. As he wrote out a check, Henry wavered between wanting to kiss Stan and wanting to punch him in the face.

Henry’s first stop after leaving the garage was a fast food drive through. As he was pulling away, he accidentally squeezed his soda cup a little too hard. Apparently the kid working the window hadn’t fully secured the top, because it popped off and icy cola splattered onto Henry’s lap. He jumped, jerking the wheel involuntarily. The car hopped the curb and hit a tree.

Henry didn’t tell anyone about the mishap. Not because he was embarrassed, but because he was afraid they’d get him a discount with their mechanic. He took the car to a garage he’d never heard of and agreed to pay full price. “How long will it take,” Henry asked.

“Couple days,” the mechanic replied.

The Boyers Buy A Tree

The following is based on an excerpt from the novellette "The Christmas Tree Lot" available in the book, "The Christmas Tree Lot and Other Holiday Tales from the Little Church Stories" now available at: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/deboch

(Hear the story read by the author.)

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church on the corner of Wilson and Elm.  This year the church decided to start a Christmas Tree lot to raise money.  Ralph Billings was in charge of running the lot and Henrietta Miggins was in charge of recruiting volunteers.  So far Henrietta’s recruitment efforts had been quite successful.  When the lot officially opened for business on the Sunday afternoon after Thanksgiving, she had Ralph, Pastor O’Donnell, Walter Tibble, Thad Wheeling and Missy Moore scheduled to work – though Walter didn’t show up, sending word that his back was hurting and he thought he better go home and lay down.

Missy arrived wearing jingle bell earrings and a sweater featuring a picture of a reindeer with a jingle bell sewn to its nose.  “I love Christmas!” she announced as she jingled up to the card table that served as the lot’s base of operations.

“Apparently,” O’Donnell mumbled.

“I brought Christmas music,” Missy continued, her bells tinkling merrily as she set a small boom box on the table, “And Christmas cookies.”

She opened a tin full of brightly decorated sugar cookies.  O’Donnell decided Missy’s Christmas mania definitely had its benefits as he helped himself to a tree shaped cookie.

And then he took a bite. It seemed what he had thought was a sugar cookie was actually made of granite with cement frosting.  He managed to chew and swallow that first bite but feared it might have cost him a visit to the dentist the next day.

While Missy went to find an extension cord for her boom box, O’Donnell ditched the cookie in some bushes.  He noticed the other volunteers were finding similar hiding places for their cookies as well.

When Missy returned they all complimented her on her baking skills.  She put on her first CD.  It was an album of fifteen different versions of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.  “Isn’t that clever,” Missy asked as a calypso version played.  “Who would have thought that song could be done in so many different ways?”

Certainly not Pastor O’Donnell.

Ralph declared the lot open for business at noon.  Their first customers were the Boyer family:  Kevin, Jill and their daughters Mary, age four, and Susie, age two.  Jill was hosting the Women's Group Christmas Party this year.  It was a big responsibility so she determined to get everything done as early as possible for the holiday season.  Her plan included getting her tree as soon as she could.

Unfortunately the members of the Boyer family all had different criteria when evaluating the trees.  Jill wanted a perfectly formed tree.  Mary and Susie wanted the biggest tree on the lot so Santa could fit lots of presents under it.  Kevin just didn’t want to spend a bunch of money on something they’d throw away in a month.  It turned out to be quite difficult to find a tree that fulfilled all of those requirements.

The trees were arranged in rows organized by height and type.  Mary and Susie immediately ran to the back row where the eight-foot and over trees were kept.  “Those won’t fit in our living room,” Kevin called as he moved to the four and five foot Douglas firs.

“I think Nobles are prettier,” Jill said, heading toward the other side of the lot.

“But they’re more expensive,” Kevin replied.  “Let’s see if we can find a Douglas that you like first.”

Ralph and Thad were in back making fresh cuts to the bottoms of trees waiting to be mounted in stands, while Missy filled the stands of the trees already on display with a hose. That left Pastor O’Donnell to assist the customers.  “Do you have any questions?” he asked Kevin.

“Not yet,” Kevin replied. “I have a feeling this might take a while,”

“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do,” O’Donnell said and returned to the card table.

Jill had Kevin bring likely candidates out into the aisle so she could observe them from every angle.  Whenever she seemed to be fixating on a particularly expensive tree, he would note that it appeared to be leaning one way or another and urge her to keep looking.  The girls pouted whenever the adults considered anything that was less than seven feet.

After about forty-five minutes Jill had found a tree she thought was just about perfect.  It was a more expensive Noble fir, but Kevin was pleased it was only five feet tall.  The girls wailed and cried but Kevin assured them Santa would figure out a way to stuff plenty of presents under it.  Jill had Kevin turn the tree this way and that as she did a final inspection to make sure there were no holes or bent branches.

Mary sat on the ground pouting and debating whether a bicycle would fit under the tree if Santa laid it on its side.  Then she noticed something moving on one of the branches.  She jumped to her feet and yelled, “Spider!”

“Where?” Kevin screamed in a high-pitched voice.  He leapt back, releasing his grip on the tree.  It fell backwards, striking the row of trees behind it. One by one they tipped over like dominos.  One of them bumped Missy, causing her to stumble and lose control of the hose.  The icy stream of water arced into the air and hit O’Donnell in the back of the head.  O’Donnell’s screams were even higher pitched than Kevin’s as the water ran down the back of his shirt.

Missy stepped on the spider, thereby completely destroying any remaining semblance of Kevin’s manliness.  He picked the tree back up and apologized for the mess.

“No problem,” Missy said brightly and proceeded to right the other fallen trees.

“Oh no,” Jill whispered to her husband.  “When you dropped the tree, the branches on that side kind of got crushed.  We better find another one.”

Kevin moaned.

Thirty minutes later Jill had settled on a new tree.  It was seven feet tall, which pleased the girls.  By that time Kevin would have happily paid a hundred dollars for a potted begonia.  Since O’Donnell was still inside drying off, Ralph made the transaction. He offered to put a fresh cut on the tree, but Kevin just wanted to pay and get out of there.

Ralph happily entered the sale in the brand new ledger he’d bought for the lot.  For the next several hours that was the only entry in that lovely ledger.

“Don’t worry,” Missy Moore said, wiping her brow.  The day was turning out to be a little warm for her reindeer sweater. “I’m sure sales will pick up as Christmas gets closer!”

O’Donnell hoped she was right, though he wasn’t sure he would live to find out.  The last version of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on Missy’s album, a novelty take done with synthesized bird tweets, was making him a bit suicidal.


Read what happens next at the Christmas Tree Lot in the book available on Lulu.com!
  

Laity Sunday

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.  One Sunday every year is designated Laity Sunday when the members of the congregation run the worship service.  The clergy do not get the day off, however.  Traditionally they make luncheon for the congregation as a gesture of gratitude.

This year, Del Winslow was in charge of Laity Sunday.  Del had a personal agenda for the day.  He wanted to have a tight, efficient service that ended in exactly one hour.  Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s services typically ran long by ten or fifteen minutes.  Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum was only slightly better.  Such overages annoyed Del greatly. In fact, he would have gotten up and walked out at the hour mark if he wasn’t a member of the choir.  So Del wanted to demonstrate to pastors O’Donnell and Tellum how a properly run worship service should go.

Del convened a meeting of Laity Sunday volunteers two weeks in advance for the purposes of assigning parts of the service.  Thad Wheeling was assigned the welcome and benediction.  Church secretary Tammy Billings agreed to do the invocation and call to worship.

The trouble started when Del asked for volunteers for the pastoral prayer.  Missy Moore, an enthusiastic, heavyset woman had been sitting quietly in back, but now her hand shot into the air.  Del was not a fan of the way Missy tended to babble on endlessly in conversation.  He dreaded what might happen if he gave her free reign at the microphone.

Del turned to his thirty-year-old daughter, Carrie.  “Carrie, why don’t you do the prayer?”

Carrie seemed startled.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “Do I have to make it up myself?”

“Well, yeah,” Del replied.

“I was hoping I could just read the scripture or something,” Carrie said.

“Come on, I know you’ll do great.”

“Okay,” Carrie muttered, not nearly so sure.  In the back, Missy put her hand back in her lap with a frown.  She had really wanted to do the prayer because she felt moved to express her gratitude for her church family and thought a group prayer would be the perfect opportunity.

The choir did the hymns and anthem as normal on Laity Sunday, but Del needed someone for special music.  Pastor Michelle’s boyfriend Ian Wells got that assignment.  Michelle wanted Ian to participate but Ian wasn’t fond of public speaking.  However he did play guitar in a jazz ensemble so special music was right up his alley.

Tammy’s husband Ralph volunteered to read the announcements.  Missy again raised her hand to do the Offertory figuring she could use the Prayer of Dedication to express her gratitude, but Del assigned those jobs to Jill Boyer.  Next Del called for a volunteer to read scripture.  “Missy, how about you?” he asked.

Missy was startled.  She hadn’t raised her hand this time.  “What else is left?” she asked.

“Just the sermon,” Del said, “and I’m doing that.”

“Fine,” Missy grumbled.

Meanwhile, Pastor Michelle was also out to prove something.  It always annoyed her that food at church events tended toward the cheap and unsophisticated.  She fancied herself a bit of a foodie and wanted to demonstrate a more gourmet approach.  Of course she also had to feed a hundred people without much help, so she needed to keep things simple.  She settled on a spicy seared scallop salad.

Pastor O’Donnell was a little skeptical when she told him, but didn’t want to crush her enthusiasm.  He was planning to make bagel pizzas for his contribution.  Michelle smiled indulgently.  They would probably make the kids happy, she figured.

Michelle wanted to get the scallops as fresh as she could so she arranged to buy them on the way to the church the morning of the service.  However when she arrived the seafood store did not have as many fresh scallops as she wanted.  Michelle began to panic.  Fortunately Ian was with her to calm her down.  He suggested they swing by the grocery store to pick up some frozen scallops.  Michelle was disappointed by the compromise but didn’t see any other option.

The only downside was that Ian would miss the walk-through Del had scheduled prior to the service.  It didn’t seem like a big deal to Ian, but at the church Del was annoyed.  To make matters worse, Ralph had caught a bad cold a couple days before and coughed constantly through the rehearsal.

Del was just about to cut special music out of the program entirely when Ian and Michelle arrived.  Michelle went to the kitchen to begin preparing her salad while Ian sauntered into the sanctuary.

Del wanted to give the tardy youngster a piece of his mind, but it was a mere five minutes until the service was scheduled to start and he wanted to begin on time even more. So he simply ordered Ian to get to his seat and then gave Thad his cue to welcome the congregation.

After the opening hymn Tammy delivered the Invocation and Call to Worship without a hitch.  By the end of the second hymn the service was running two minutes ahead of schedule according to Del’s calculations.  That’s when the first hiccup occurred.

Carrie stepped up to the lectern to deliver the pastoral prayer.  She had written it out on a piece of paper, revising it through half a dozen drafts during the week.  She pulled the paper out of her pocket with shaky hands, only to drop it.  It floated down over the railing and into the third pew.  Del tapped his foot impatiently as Tammy scrambled down to retrieve the paper.  Well, it was only a small delay.  They could make up the time.

Carrie managed to get through the prayer without vomiting which she considered quite an achievement.  Next came the special music.  Ian got his guitar and pulled a microphone out to the center of the chancel.  However when he tried to introduce the song he discovered the microphone wasn’t working.  He verified that it was turned on then began tracing the cord to see that everything was plugged in.  Organist Walter Tibble came over to help.  “Just get a different microphone,” Del finally snapped, a little louder than he intended.  “This is why we rehearsed,” he muttered under his breath.

Ian’s song was wonderful but Del didn’t hear it.  He was busy editing his sermon to make up for the lost time.  Then came the announcements.  Ralph stepped up to the microphone and began to speak.  No sound came out.

At first Del thought Ralph was using the broken microphone.  But when Ralph coughed and it was amplified over the speakers it became clear the microphone was not the problem.  Ralph had lost his voice.  Del strode out and took over.  He didn’t have time for any more delays.

Then real disaster struck.  As Del was moving back to his spot, he tripped on the microphone cord.  His glasses fell off and by an unfortunate coincidence Del’s left knee landed right on top of them.  He heard the lenses crunch and began to feel sick to his stomach.  Without his glasses he wouldn’t be able to read his notes for the sermon.

Fortunately Jill managed the offertory without any problems but when Missy went to the lectern to do the scripture reading, she started by saying, “before I begin, I’d like to take a moment to express my gratitude for this church…”

Del felt his blood begin to boil.  He coughed pointedly but Missy ignored him.  She went on for ten minutes determined to deliver the message she would have done had she been given the opportunity to lead a prayer.  By the time she got around to reading the scripture, the service had been going for fifty-eight minutes.

Del gave up.  He had rehearsed his sermon several times and could deliver it without his notes, but he couldn’t edit it on the fly.  So he just did it the way he had originally planned.  Halfway through he was interrupted when the smoke alarm went off in the kitchen.  Michelle had left one batch of scallops in the frying pan a little longer than she should have.

It took ten minutes for someone to ascertain that the church was not on fire.  Del finished up his sermon, the congregation sang the final hymn, and Thad delivered the benediction.  The service had run a total of twenty-nine minutes over, considerably more than was common when the clergy were in charge.

The congregation moved to the Social Hall for the luncheon.  Tammy Billings was first in line.  She examined Michelle’s scallop salad closely.  “What is it,” she asked.

Michelle described the ingredients and manner of preparation proudly.  Tammy forced a smile.  “Sounds very fancy,” she said.  She took a small helping just to be polite, then grabbed one of O’Donnell’s bagel pizzas.  “Where’s the coffee?” she asked.

Michelle and O’Donnell looked at each other.  They’d both completely forgotten to make coffee.  They scrambled to go set it up.

By the time the luncheon was finished the bagel pizzas were completely gone but half the scallop salad remained.  And the coffee had finally finished brewing but by then nobody wanted it anymore.  As Ian helped Michelle pack up the leftovers he observed that she could have gotten away without the frozen scallops after all.  Ian wasn’t always the smartest boyfriend.

The following week the pastors were running the service again and Tammy was back in charge of coffee hour.  And everything went much more smoothly.

Pumpkin Carving

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.  One of Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum’s many jobs at the church is programming.  So Michelle was constantly on the lookout for events and activities to encourage fellowship within the congregation.  Holidays frequently provided such opportunities.  When October rolled around, she suggested to Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell that they hold a jack-o-lantern carving contest the day before Halloween.

“Sounds like an excellent idea,” Pastor O’Donnell said.  “I can be a judge if you want.”  Being a judge meant that he would be the center of attention and that he wouldn’t have to get all messy carving a pumpkin.  O’Donnell liked attention and didn’t like getting messy so it was kind of the perfect arrangement.

Michelle figured they needed at least three judges.  For the second she recruited Ralph Billings who was always happy to help out in any way he was needed.  Then Michelle asked Missy Moore.  “I’d be a great judge,” Missy said.  “I went to art school, you know.”

“I did not know that,” Michelle replied.

“But I think I’d rather carve a pumpkin.  You know, put that art training to use.  If you don’t think that would be unfair to the other competitors.”

“No,” Michelle said, “I think that would be fine.”

Next Michelle tried organist Walter Tibble.  Walter had no interest in carving a pumpkin but didn’t really have any interest in judging either.  However once Michelle mentioned that she would be making cookies for refreshments Walter agreed.  Walter was a fan of Michelle’s cookies and, really, how hard could it be to pick out which jack-o-lantern he liked best?

A dozen people entered the contest.  Michelle and her boyfriend, Ian Wells, had bought twenty pumpkins from a local pumpkin patch – really a parking lot covered in hay to seem rustic.  They set them out on a table in the social hall for participants to select from.

Missy carefully perused the pumpkins, hoisting each one in turn and gazing at it critically.  “In art school they emphasize the importance of selecting the right materials,” she remarked.  “As Michelangelo said, ‘every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.’”

“You do know we’re carving pumpkins, not stone,” Ian said.

“Of course,” Missy shot back.  “And I want to find the pumpkin with just the right jack-o-lantern lurking inside.”

“Great,” Ian replied.  “I think I’ll just carve this one.”  He grabbed the pumpkin closest to where he happened to be standing at that moment.

“No!” Missy cried.  “That was one of my top choices.  That’s why I set it back from the edge of the table.”

“It’s first come first serve,” Ian said.  He didn’t really care which pumpkin he carved, but Missy was starting to annoy him.

“Are you even eligible for the contest?” Missy demanded.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re dating the organizer.”

“Let’s let Pastor O’Donnell decide,” Ian said.

“I think the judges can manage to remain objective,” O’Donnell replied when they asked him.  “Besides, Katie wants to enter, too.”  He nodded toward his teenage daughter, Katie, and her friend Tabitha who were picking out their pumpkins at that very moment.

“Okay, Ian can have the good pumpkin,” Missy said grumpily.  “I suppose it’s only fair that I’m handicapped considering my art school training.”

“How magnanimous,” Ian muttered.  He grabbed a knife and went to claim a workspace.

Missy picked a replacement pumpkin and found her workspace.  She pulled a bundle out of her big purse and unrolled it.  It contained a selection of carving and scooping instruments.

When Ian saw this he summoned Pastor O’Donnell again.  “Is Missy allowed to use those fancy tools?” Ian asked.  “The rest of us just have knives from the kitchen.”

“It doesn’t say you can’t bring your own tools!” Missy protested and held up the flyer advertising the event.

“It doesn’t say you can’t smash your opponents’ pumpkins, either,” Ian pointed out.

“That’s not the same thing at all,” Missy argued.

 “I’m going to make an executive decision,” O’Donnell said before the argument got out of hand.  “Missy can use her own tools.”

Ian and Missy glared at each other as they returned to their pumpkins. 

Over at the judges’ table Michelle called for everyone’s attention.  “You will have one hour to carve your jack-o-lanterns,” she said.  “Ready…set…go!” 

The contestants immediately bent to their work, cutting the tops off their pumpkins and scooping out the insides.  Michelle collected the pumpkin seeds to roast them with spices in the kitchen.  The judges amused themselves at the refreshment table.

After about ten minutes Katie pushed her pumpkin away with a groan.  “I screwed up.  Can I start over?” she asked.

“Sure,” Michelle said.  “There are still half a dozen pumpkins left.”  Katie found a new pumpkin and resumed work.

Ian hadn’t gone to art school but he was a pretty creative guy.  He planned to carve the jack of hearts from a deck of cards as a pun on the word jack-o-lantern.  Since the jack of hearts was a one-eyed jack, he made an X for one of the eyes as if it had been gouged out.  He sketched out his plan on the pumpkin with a pencil.  He was pretty proud of himself – the thin curling mustache and the hearts on the side sold it.

He glanced over to see how Missy was progressing.  She caught his look and immediately moved to block her pumpkin with her body.

“Aaaarrrrgh,” Katie yelled and kicked her pumpkin away.  It rolled across the floor into the corner.  She stomped over to the remaining pumpkins and grabbed a new one.

Ian was just putting the final touches on his jack-o-lantern when Michelle announced ten minutes left.

“No,” Katie wailed and ran for a new pumpkin.

Ian noodled with his entry for several more minutes.  He was happy with what he had done but since Missy was being so protective of hers he figured he would keep his hidden until the last moment as well.

Finally Michelle announced that the contest was over and instructed the participants to bring their jack-o-lanterns up to the judges’ table.  When Missy saw Ian’s jack-of-hearts, she snorted.  “What’s scary about that?”

“It’s a one-eyed-jack-o-lantern,” Ian said.  The judges chuckled and Missy flushed with momentary annoyance. 

“Let’s see yours,” Ian demanded.

Missy revealed her creation.  She had carved a demonic face on her pumpkin, cleverly using pieces of pumpkin that she had cut out from the eyes as horns.  Ian shuddered a little.  It was surprisingly evil looking.

O’Donnell cleared his throat.  “That’s very…well…”

“Disturbing,” Ralph finished.

“It’s supposed to be scary,” Missy replied.  “This is Halloween, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” Michelle said.  She found the demon a bit unsettling as well.  “Is that all of the entries?”

“Wait for me,” Tabitha called out.  She scurried over and set her jack-o-lantern on the table.  Everyone gasped.

“It’s you!” Katie said.

It was indeed.  Tabitha had carved a strikingly lifelike self-portrait on the side of her pumpkin, leaving just enough of the flesh intact within the image that it glowed.  “I got the idea off the internet,” Tabitha said shyly.  “You tape a picture to the pumpkin then poke holes through it with a big needle to create the outline.”

“Is that fair?” Missy mumbled.

“You got to use your special tools,” Ian pointed out.

“I hate jack-o-lanterns” Katie whispered under her breath, looking down at her entry.  She’d ended up carving two triangular eyes and a jagged mouth.

“Okay, let’s let the judges get to work,” Michelle said.

It didn’t take long for the judges to make their decision.  O’Donnell called Tabitha up and presented her with a blue ribbon and a gift certificate to Roger’s Café.

Then O’Donnell announced the other awards.  “Ian gets the funniest jack-o-lantern award.  Missy gets scariest.  Katie gets most traditional…”

“Wait a minute,” Missy interrupted.  “What kind of awards are those?  Tabitha’s pumpkin is great, I’ll admit.  Kudos to her.  But who gets second place?”

“Nobody,” Michelle replied.  “There was only one ribbon and gift certificate.  Everyone else gets these fun awards.  It’s, you know, fun.”

“But…but…” Missy sputtered.  “We all want to know whose was second best, right?”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed.

“Not really,” Katie grumbled.

Michelle turned to the judges.  Walter was the one that spoke up.  “It was a tie,” he said.  “Everyone came in second.  Everyone except Tabitha, of course.  She was clearly first place.  She’s quite an artist.”

“Well,” Missy muttered under her breath, “great art is never appreciated in its own time.”

Perhaps that was true, but within three days her jack-o-lantern had decayed into a puddle of goo so future generations never got to weigh in on the issue.

Happy Halloween!

Scott's Baptism

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. A few months ago church members Carrie and Carlos Lopez gave birth to a beautiful baby boy named Scott. Last Sunday they had Scott baptized during morning worship service.

Karen and Del Winslow are Carrie’s parents and thus Scott’s grandparents. Since Scott’s birth Karen had filled nearly a dozen hours of videotape with footage of him. And soon Del will have to purchase a new hard drive to accommodate all the digital photos she’s taken.

Karen had footage of Scott sleeping, footage of Scott eating, footage of Scott crying…well, that pretty much covered it. All he had really done up to this point was sleep, eat and cry. The prospect of filming an actual milestone event like the baptism had Karen in full director mode. She started filming from the moment they left the house.

When they arrived at church Del went to his accustomed place with the choir. The rest of the family normally sat toward the back of the sanctuary, but as they were to be part of the day’s service they moved up to the second pew so they wouldn’t have to walk so far when it came time for the baptism. The first pew remained empty. Nobody ever sat in the first pew.

No sooner had the service started than baby Scott woke up and began to cry. For reasons nobody could fathom he seemed to cry every time they brought him into the sanctuary. Carlos was, frankly, no fan of church but even he couldn’t understand why it bothered his infant son so much.

Carrie picked up Scott and paced up and down the side aisle trying with limited success to calm him. Karen followed along dutifully, camcorder pressed to her eye.

Fortunately, the baptism was early in the service and only the invocation, call to worship and first hymn were impacted by Scott’s wailing. As soon as the ceremony was over Carrie could take him to the nursery for the remainder of the service.

Eight and half long minutes later Pastor O’Donnell came down out of the chancel and invited the family to come forward for the baptism.

Missy Moore, who was seated in the pew behind the Winslows, said, “Karen, why don’t you let me take the camera for you?”

Karen looked at Missy skeptically. It was clear from her expression that she wasn’t sure she could trust someone else with such an essential task.

“Yeah, Mom,” Carrie chimed in. “You should be in this video.”

Karen reluctantly handed the camera to Missy. “Don’t worry,” Missy said, “I know what to do.” She positioned herself at the near end of the pew to get a good angle on the proceedings.

The family gathered around the baptismal font. Pastor O’Donnell led the parents in their vows of caring for sweet little Scott’s spiritual upbringing. Even with his lapel microphone, he had to shout to be heard over sweet little Scott.

Then Tammy Billings led the congregation in their part of the ceremony. She did not have a lapel microphone, but there was a mic on a stand available to her. Unfortunately, when she turned it on, Scott’s wailing caused a screeching feedback, which in turn caused Scott (and a few members of the congregation) to wail even louder. Tammy quickly turned off the microphone.

Luckily the text of the ceremony was in the hymnal and the congregation managed to read in relative unison despite being unable to hear their leader.

When they finished, Pastor O’Donnell removed Scott’s knit cap and handed it to Carrie. He dipped his fingers in the water in the baptismal font and placed his wet hand on Scott’s little head. The sensation of the water startled Scott so much he stopped crying.

O’Donnell breathed a sigh of relief, then said, “Scott Michael Lopez, I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.”

Little Scott looked into O’Donnell’s eyes and gave him the most heartwarming smile. Startled, O’Donnell smiled back.

And then it hit him.

It seemed while O’Donnell was baptizing him, Scott was working on a little project in his diaper. A project that gave off astoundingly noxious fumes. O’Donnell reeled back. His eyes began to water. Through the tears he marveled that such an adorable little creature could produce a smell so foul.

Many in the congregation were touched to see their pastor crying. It was sweet, they thought, that he was still so moved by the ceremony of baptism after all these years in ministry.

O’Donnell watched each member of the family recoil slightly as the invisible cloud of putrescence spread out from Scott’s diaper. They all tried not to react. After all, though the aroma may have seemed like something emanating from the depths of hell, it was a normal biological activity for an infant. But the smiles that had previously been such natural expressions of the family’s joy had turned into frozen grimaces.

Carrie and Carlos knew immediately what the problem was. They had just started little Scott on solid foods and he was having a profound reaction to avocados – though he seemed to love them.

The expanding stench reached Missy. She gasped and began scooting down her pew trying to escape the funk. Karen noticed this and hissed at her, gesturing for her to return to her previous spot.

“I’m using the zoom,” Missy said quietly.

“Get back here,” Karen growled.

Missy took a deep breath, held it, and resumed her position.

Little Scott nestled in Pastor O’Donnell’s arms, cooing adorably at him. But the pungent bouquet only seemed to be getting worse.

“Now let me introduce this little guy to the congregation,” O’Donnell said and started up the central aisle, turning from side to side so everyone could see the baby. O’Donnell had hoped that he might escape the area of contamination but it soon became apparent that the scent travelled with its source.

As he passed, the congregants leaned forward to get a better view of the cherubic infant. And quickly jerked away when the stench hit their noses.

O’Donnell made it back to the front of the church and returned the baby to Carrie. He declared Scott baptized and dismissed the family. Though Scott was no longer crying, Carrie didn’t even pause at the pew, heading straight for the nursery. She wanted to get that diaper into a containment unit before it could do any more damage.

The rest of the family returned to the second pew, except for Del who resumed his position in the choir. Celia Simmons leaned back and grumbled, “Pastor O’Donnell forgot to bring your grandson up here so the choir could see him.”

Del patted her shoulder and said, “Trust me, he was doing you a favor.”

Celia would have asked Del to explain himself but it was time for the next hymn.

Four years from now the Winslows will finally sit down to watch the recording of the baptism for the first time. They will have forgotten all about the aromatic part of the day – until about halfway through the ceremony when Missy’s whispered voice comes on the tape. Missy apparently didn’t recall that the camera’s microphone was closer to her than anyone else and would therefore pick up the prayer she muttered under her breath.

“Dear Lord,” Missy had prayed, “please grant me strength to endure these evil fumes. I’m sorry I didn’t buy any candy bars from that kid at the grocery store. I promise if you get me through this I will put twenty dollars in the offering plate.”

After that the Winslows will no longer be able to hear what Missy says because it will be drowned out by their laughter. Four year-old Scott will look at his parents and grandparents in confusion. It must be one of those jokes only old people get, he will figure.

In memory of Nez Smith.