The Serpent in the Cupboard

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Last Sunday was warm and breezy, and the windows of the social hall had been thrown open for coffee hour. Audra Park, however, was too preoccupied to enjoy the weather. She was telling Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell about her ideas for mission projects when she spotted her six-year-old son Tyler making his fourth trip to the refreshment table.

“You’ve had enough cookies,” Audra snapped as she intercepted the boy.

“But I’m hungry,” Tyler whined.

“We’ll go to lunch as soon as I finish talking to Pastor O’Donnell,” Audra replied. “Can you please go play?”

Tyler sighed as only a six year-old unfairly denied a cookie can sigh and trudged off.

Audra returned to the pastor, apologizing for the interruption. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I remember when my daughter was his age.”

As Audra continued to explain her mission idea, she noticed that O’Donnell had grown distracted by something behind her. She turned and let out a gasp.

Tyler was creeping along the wall with a ten-inch carving knife in his hand.

“Tyler!” she shouted, running over to him. “Give me that. What were you thinking?”

“I was hunting a snake,” he said.

“There are no snakes in here,” she replied. “You know you aren’t allowed to handle knives without supervision.”

“There is a snake,” Tyler cried. “It bit my shoe!”

He stuck his left foot out revealing two puncture holes about half an inch apart on the tip of his tennis shoe. “Tyler Park, what did you do? Those were brand new! Why would you poke holes in them?”

“It was a snake, Mom,” Tyler insisted.

Audra sighed. “Are you familiar with the boy who cried wolf?”

“It was a snake, not a wolf! Geez, will you listen to me?”

“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” Audra said. “Now sit right here until I’m finished.”

Tyler flopped onto a chair and folded his arms, his lip protruding in an exaggerated pout. Audra returned to the pastor. “He said he saw a snake,” she sighed. “My son has an active imagination.”

O’Donnell chuckled. “They probably discussed the Garden of Eden in Sunday school. Last week’s lesson was about Daniel, and Tyler told me bullies at his school were throwing kids to the lions.”

Just then there was a high-pitched scream from the kitchen. The pastor ran toward it, Audra following close behind. They found church secretary Tammy Billings standing in the middle of the room looking even paler than normal, her fingers fluttering about her mouth.

“What happened?” O’Donnell asked.

“Snake,” Tammy squeaked, pointing at the cupboard.

Audra’s face went pale. She dashed from the kitchen, shouting Tyler’s name.

O’Donnell reached for the cupboard. “Don’t open it!” Tammy exclaimed.

“Relax,” the pastor said. “I’m sure it’s more afraid of us than we are of it.”

Tammy thought snakes must be timid creatures indeed if this one was more scared than she was. She remembered that the offering still needed to be counted, and decided now would be a terrific time for that task. She bolted for the church office before Pastor O’Donnell could open the cupboard.

It so happened that as a boy O’Donnell had been fascinated by snakes and even kept a garter snake as a pet for a while. He knew most were harmless, though there were a few species of rattlesnake in Pennsylvania. So he opened the door calmly but cautiously.

All that he could see in the cupboard were boxes of tin foil and plastic bags.

For a moment he wondered if Tammy had imagined the snake. But given Tyler’s claim, that would be too much of a coincidence. He opened the cupboard a little farther. Inside, the shelves ran the entire length of the cabinetry with no sides separating the individual sections. The snake had most likely slithered along the shelves after Tammy disturbed it. O’Donnell began methodically opening each door in turn, using a wooden spoon to shift the contents around. But there was no sign of any snake.

Meanwhile, Tyler was writhing on the floor as Audra wrenched his shoe and sock off to examine his toes. “Where did it bite you?” she cried.

“It didn’t!” Tyler said. “It just bit the end of my shoe.”

After a ten minute inspection, Audra was finally satisfied that his skin hadn’t been broken and that he wasn’t about to go into a poison induced coma. She hugged him tightly. “Mom, you’re hurting me,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

“Sorry,” she said, releasing him.

Tyler saw the worry in his mother’s eyes. It kind of scared him. It also gave him an idea. “Could I maybe have a cookie?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Audra replied.

Most of the congregation had already departed to enjoy their Sunday afternoons, but there were still a few cookies on the table. As Tyler and Audra finished them off, neither noticed the snake slithering across the linoleum behind them.

The snake was not trying to scare anybody, of course. It had only bitten Tyler’s shoe because he nearly stepped on it while running after a ball. And it was drawn to the church office by a shuffling noise that it thought might be a rodent. Had it known Tammy was in there, it would have chosen a different route. But its eyes were at floor level, so it didn’t even notice Tammy sitting behind the desk.

However Tammy, from her vantage point, definitely noticed the serpent gliding across the office threshold.

She scrambled up onto the desk. She watched as the snake curled itself into a swirl in the middle of the office floor, sunlight glinting off its reddish brown and white scales, its malevolent obsidian eyes scanning the room, its tongue tasting the air. Tammy imagined it tasted her fear. She wondered what flavor fear most resembled.

The snake was between her and the door. She leaned over slowly to peer into the social hall, hoping someone would be there to rescue her, but Tyler and Audra had already left and the room was now empty. She needed another means of escape. She could reach the window from the desk, but when she tried to raise it she discovered it had been painted shut.

Tammy glanced back at the snake. It gazed implacably at her. Panic swelled in her throat, threatening to choke her. She had to get away from those unblinking eyes or they would drive her mad! There was only one place to go: The closet.

Slowly she climbed down and slipped through the closet door. She stuffed her sweater in the gap at the base of the door so the snake couldn’t get in. But now the small space was completely dark. She triggered her cell phone display for light.

Her cell phone! Help was but a call away. She dialed Pastor O’Donnell’s number. “I’m trapped in the closet in the office,” she whispered when he answered. “The snake is right outside. Stop laughing, it isn’t funny!”

She hung up angrily. Several minutes passed. She held the cell phone in her left hand, aiming the light at the bottom of the door, as she used her right hand to dab away the beads of icy sweat that kept forming on her temple.

Suddenly, the door swung open. Tammy yelped, momentarily imagining the snake had figured out how to turn the knob with its mouth. But it was only Pastor O’Donnell.

“Did you see the snake?” she asked.

“Yes,” O’Donnell whispered. “It’s right above you.”

Tammy screamed and climbed the pastor like he was a tree. But since, unlike a tree, the pastor lacked roots, both of them tumbled onto the carpet. O’Donnell was laughing so hard he was crying.

Tammy scrambled to her feet and looked into the closet. “Where is it!” she screeched.

“Under there,” O’Donnell gasped, pointing at an overturned plastic wastebasket in the middle of the office floor. “It was sleeping in the sunlight.”

Tammy seethed at the prank he’d played on her, but could not at the moment think of an appropriate comeback. She stalked out of the office while O’Donnell called Normal’s animal control department. She intended to head straight home, but she forgot to take her purse with her and was unwilling to reenter the office while the snake was there, wastebasket or no wastebasket.

Once the animal control agent had captured the snake, Pastor O’Donnell insisted that Tammy take a look at it. “It’s in a cage,” he told her. “Come on, it’ll make you feel better.”

Reluctantly, Tammy entered the office and studied the cage from a safe distance. She wondered if they’d gotten the right one. The snake didn’t look as big as she’d remembered.

“It’s a milk snake,” the animal control officer said helpfully. “Non-venomous. See that bulge behind the head? It’s fed in the last half hour so it’s pretty docile.”

“Fed on what?” Tammy asked.

“Probably a mouse. See, it did you a favor.”

“A… mouse?” O’Donnell stammered, then dashed from the room.

Tammy walked the animal control officer out to his truck. Pastor O’Donnell was in the parking lot waiting for her.

“Call an exterminator Monday,” he told her. “I won’t have mice in the church. Sneaky, filthy little rodents.” He shuddered.

“Will do,” Tammy said with a smile. She was remembering how O’Donnell had intentionally scared her earlier. And she was pretty sure she’d seen some rubber mouse toys for cats at the pet store.

Overrun

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm.  On Mondays Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell goes over the following Sunday’s service with church secretary Tammy Billings so she can make the bulletin.  The basic liturgy is the same every week; so usually it’s just a matter of filling in the sermon title, hymn numbers and any special events.  But during one recent Monday meeting, Tammy raised a concern about the number of special items that had converged for that particular service.

“We ought to cut something or we’re going to run long,” she said.

“What would we cut?” Henry asked.  “People complain if we cut the hymns, the choir complains if we cut the anthem, and we always do communion on the first Sunday of the month.”

“Maybe we could move the Sherfield baptism to next week.”

“This is the only weekend both sets of grandparents are in town.”

“Hm.  Well, what’s this finance committee moment with Donald East?”

“He wants to say a few words about the fundraising campaign to fix the organ.”

“Donald rarely stops after only a few words,” Tammy pointed out.

“True,” Henry said, “but the fundraising is not going as well as we hoped.  I don’t think we can afford to put it off.”

“Could we cut the special music?”

“Celia Simmons’ solo?  Do you want to ask her?”  Celia had a tendency to see personal insults in the most innocuous comments.  She would undoubtedly find a slight in a request not to sing.

“Well if we keep everything, you’re going to have to do a really short sermon,” Tammy snapped.

“So it’ll be a long service,” Henry replied.  “People will just have to deal.”

“Is that what you’re going to tell Del Winslow?”

Henry chewed his lip.  Del was of the firm belief that church service should last exactly one hour.  If it ran over by even two minutes, Del would subject Henry to a long rant at coffee hour.

“Yes,” Henry said petulantly.  “Del will just have to deal, too.  Now if there’s nothing else, I’m going for a walk.”

Henry stomped outside and stood at the edge of the parking lot, rubbing his jaw.  Why did people insist on trying to force worship into a little box?  It wasn’t right.  In fact, he decided, that would be his sermon topic.  It was a much better topic than the one he’d been planning on the linguistics of one of the psalms.  He would make such a compelling case against clock watching at church that Del wouldn’t dare to complain no matter how long they ran.

Henry noticed that Jose, the church janitor and maintenance man, had joined him and was rubbing his jaw in the same manner as Henry.  “The soil is no good anymore,” Jose said, “And the teenager you hired to mow does not do any maintenance.  The grass needs reseeding.”

Startled, Henry realized that Jose thought he was looking at the lawn in front of the church.  So Henry looked.  Jose was right – it was in awful condition.  There were large patches of dirt, and much of the remaining grass was a sickly grey color. 

“I suppose we’ll have to hire landscapers,” Henry sighed.

“Or I could do it,” Jose replied.

“Would you?” Henry asked.

“Sure.  If you’ll pay me for the extra time and the supplies. But it would be best to wait until fall when the heat is less.”

“I can’t have the lawn look like this all summer.  Do it as soon as you can.”

“I will do it this week,” Jose replied.

And he did.  Henry stayed in his office late every night that week, toiling over his sermon.  It had become something of a holy mission in his head.  Whenever he paused to chew over exactly the right word to use, he would see Jose through the window working on the lawn.

Late Friday afternoon, Tammy fielded one last call from a young couple who was looking for a place for their wedding.  Tammy arranged for them to drop by before the service on Sunday.  Then she packed up and said goodbye to the pastor.  He grunted, barely looking up from his opus of a sermon.  As she left, she waved to Jose who was aerating the lawn.  It looked like hard work and the day was quite warm.  Sweat streamed down Jose’s face.

Sunday morning Tammy returned to the church to meet the young engaged couple.  The moment she stepped out of her car, she was reminded of a week she’d spent at her Uncle’s farm as a little girl.  Scientists say smells are the best triggers of memory, and the scent that Tammy encountered was exactly like the one in her Uncle’s pigsty.

It seemed Jose had fertilized the new grass before he left Friday.

A few minutes later the couple arrived.  Tammy could see them reel back when the odor hit them, but they were too polite to comment.

After introducing herself, Tammy said, “We’re doing some work on the lawn.  It’ll be finished long before your wedding.  It’s a lovely place to take pictures with the brick church in the background.  But perhaps you’d rather head directly inside.”

“Yes please,” the young bride said.

As they walked up the path, they encountered Henry.  “Good morning, Pastor,” Tammy said.  “How are you?”

“Allergies are acting up,” Henry grumbled in a nasal voice.  He turned to the couple and flashed a warm smile.  “And who have we here?”

“These lovely people are looking for a church for their wedding,” Tammy explained, trying to edge around the pastor without stepping in the fragrant soil.

“Fantastic!” Henry said.  “Let me tell you a little about what we do here…”  He then held the couple hostage for the next ten minutes.  Henry was not one to use only a few words, either, and apparently his allergies prevented him from smelling the fertilizer.  At one point Tammy thought the fumes might be causing her to hallucinate.  It appeared as though the young bride’s face had a strange bluish tint.  Then she realized it was because the woman was holding her breath.

Tammy was afraid the couple might be about to make a break for their car when Henry finally said, “Well, I’ve got to go get ready to preach.  I hope you’ll stick around.”  They did not.

Soon the rest of the congregation began to arrive.  Nobody dallied outside.  Unfortunately, the church provided little sanctuary from the stench.  The stealthy fumes had spent the last thirty-eight hours locating every tiny crack and gap to infiltrate the building.

Tammy shifted uncomfortably in her regular pew, attempting to breathe through her mouth and distract herself by surreptitiously pinching her thigh.  It didn’t work.

Pastor O’Donnell was still unaware of the olfactory assault being perpetrated on his flock.  What he was aware of was the speed with which everyone moved through the service.  Even Donald East kept his speech under thirty seconds.

Yet the service has already passed the hour mark when Henry stood to begin his sermon.  He glanced at Del, who was a member of the choir.  Del’s head was bowed and he was rubbing his forehead with his right hand so Henry couldn’t see his expression.

Henry launched into his sermon.  He spoke passionately, his voice booming, his hands punctuating the air with dramatic gestures.  Halfway through he glanced over at Del and almost lost his place.  The man was crying!  Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes.  Henry knew his sermon was good but he’d never seen Del so moved.  Then Henry noticed that Del was not the only one with tears in his eyes.  It seemed half the congregation was similarly touched.  It spurred Henry to even greater heights of elocution.

Tammy was one of the congregants whose eyes were watering, though it was not due to the sermon.  As the day had warmed up, the manure outside had grown even more fragrant.  It had taken on an almost physical quality, as though someone was spraying a mist of vinegar in her face.

Henry was disappointed at how few people stayed for coffee hour after the service.  They had run almost forty minutes over, but he had hoped the impact of his words would encourage folks to linger.  He saw Del with his wife, Karen Winslow, the Sunday school teacher for the pre-kindergarten class known as the Guppies.  She’d brought the class up to the social hall to wait for their parents.  Henry decided to see what Del had to say.

“Del was just telling me about your sermon,” Karen said as soon as Henry walked up.

“Yes, it seemed to have quite an effect,” the pastor replied.  “I noticed Del was particularly moved.  I guess the right subject matter is worth a few extra minutes out of the week, eh?”

Just then Jill Boyer arrived to pick up her daughter Mary.  “What took you so long?” Mary asked.  “It stinks in here.  Pee-Yoo!”

“Yes,” Del told the child, “it seems there’s an excess of fertilizer at the church today.”

Panic Button

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Last week, the church made the police blotter in the Normal Star Times. The mention was brief, but it had taken investigating officers Glenn Johnson and Cindy Beaumont the better part of an hour to sort out exactly what had transpired.

On the afternoon in question, Johnson watched as Beaumont poured water into the red, swollen eyes of the pastor, who was sitting on the church steps. Johnson skimmed back over the confusing jumble of notes on his pad with a sigh. The slim, stately woman in front of him looked to be in her mid fifties and was nervously fiddling with a button on her flower print cardigan. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call the paramedics, Mrs. Billings?” he asked.

“Oh no,” she said. “That’s not necessary. It’s just when you came into the office with your guns drawn it rather frightened me. I fainted, that’s all. I’m very embarrassed.”

“All right then. Why don’t you tell me what happened. From the beginning, please.”

“The beginning? Well, I guess the first thing you have to know is Pastor O’Donnell has been quite nervous about Dr. Walech’s visit for over a week. See, Dr. Walech was his favorite professor at seminary, and the pastor wanted to make a good impression. That’s why he asked me to keep an eye on Mary and Susie.”

“Are you related to the girls?”

“No, I’m the church secretary.”

“They’re the pastor’s girls then.”

“No. They belong to Jill Boyer.”

“Her,” Johnson said, and pointed his pen at the young woman seated cross-legged on the lawn with the girls in question.

“Yes,” Tammy Billings replied. “You see, she was working in the garden. The women’s group takes turns and it was her week. She brought the girls along because her husband was playing golf or something.”

“But it was the pastor who brought the girls to the office.”

“Yes. Apparently Jill had given the girls colored chalk to draw on the sidewalk. Then Susie had to use the bathroom, so Jill took them inside. But Mary had gotten chalk all over her and I guess she kind of left a trail in the social hall. When the pastor saw that, he thought maybe it would be better if the girls colored with crayons in the office while Dr. Walech was here.”

“Okay, I think I follow. But what does that have to do with the panic alert we received from your alarm system?”

“Well, once Pastor O’Donnell and Dr. Walech began their tour of the grounds, I thought it would be safe to start copying the newsletter. But when I looked up, Mary was gone.”

“Mrs. Billings, the panic button is for serious emergencies – violent break-ins, for example. You can’t push it whenever a child wanders off.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain. It wasn’t me. It turned out Mary hadn’t left the office at all. She was hiding under my desk. She saw the button under there and pushed it. It’s all my fault. I should have known you don’t dare take your eyes off that girl for a second.”

Johnson looked over at the four-year-old in question. “She’s just a child,” he said. “I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm.”

“You don’t know her,” Billings said with a shudder.

While Officer Johnson was interviewing Tammy Billings, Officer Cindy Beaumont examined the eyes of the chubby, middle-aged man who she now knew was Pastor Henry O’Donnell. “Are you feeling better, sir?” Officer Beaumont asked.

The pastor blinked several times and squinted at the elderly gentleman who was admiring the flowers in the garden as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “My eyes are,” O’Donnell muttered.

“Good,” Beaumont said. “Now, can you explain again why you were climbing out the window when we arrived?”

“That man over there is Dr. Walech. He’s the pastor of a big church in Philadelphia with all kinds of programs and mission work and even a radio station. He’s had three books published and he teaches a legendary seminary class on semantics. I was so honored that he would come visit our little church, I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

“And that somehow involves you exiting via the window.”

“I was giving him a tour. While we were in the social hall, I happened to look out the window and saw that Mary had drawn that big picture of the devil on the sidewalk in colored chalk. It was frightening, really. Whatever else you can say about her, that girl has some artistic talent.”

Beaumont glanced over at the drawing. It was impressively horrific. The eyes seemed to follow you wherever you stood.

“Well, I didn’t want Dr. Walech to see that,” O’Donnell continued, “I was worried he might think Mary was typical of the children in our Sunday school program. So I directed him to a display on the bulletin board and told him I needed to use the restroom. I climbed out the restroom window so I could hose off the sidewalk. But I kind of slipped and fell into the bushes. And that’s when you saw me.”

“So why didn’t you just identify yourself and explain all that? Why did you come running out of the bushes waving your arms?”

“There was a spider in there…” the pastor said, his cheeks reddening to match his eyes.

“That wasn’t very smart, pastor. You could have been shot.”

“I know,” O’Donnell mumbled. “Thank you for only using the pepper spray.”

Officers Beaumont and Johnson got together to compare notes. Clearly this was all just a big misunderstanding, but it seemed hard to believe such a little girl could have caused so much chaos. So they decided to talk to Mary to confirm the story.

“I’m sorry I pushed the button,” Mary said, tiny, adorable tears gathering on her eyelashes. “I just wanted to find out what it did.”

“Well now you know,” Johnson said with mock sternness. “And you won’t do it again, will you?”

“No. I promise.”

“Why did you draw a picture of the devil on the sidewalk?” Beaumont asked.

“Oh, that’s from a funny movie I saw last night. I woke up and I was thirsty and when I came downstairs for some water, my Daddy was asleep in the reclimber chair and I saw that red man with the horns on the TV. I thought he was really cool so I stayed and watched.”

Johnson stifled a laugh.

“Can I go play now?” Mary asked.

“Sure,” Beaumont said. “But why don’t you draw something a little happier this time. Like a rainbow.”

“Rainbows are boring,” Mary scoffed as she skipped away.

The two police officers gathered the others together. “Okay,” Johnson said, “obviously this was a false alarm. And I have to say, I’m a little embarrassed for all of you. You’re adults. You shouldn’t be passing the blame onto that sweet little—”

Johnson’s lecture was interrupted by the earsplitting wail of a siren very close behind him. After making sure he hadn’t soiled himself, he turned around to discover Mary Boyer behind the wheel of his police cruiser pretending to drive. He grabbed the door handle, but Mary had apparently locked the doors. Johnson pounded on the window to get her attention, but the little girl couldn’t hear him over the noise.

As O’Donnell watched this newest bit of chaos forlornly, Dr. Walech put a hand on his shoulder. “I know just how you feel,” Walech said. “We have a little boy at our church named James Mendelsen…”

Resolutions

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm.  Every year for the last six years, Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell has made a New Year’s resolution to lose ten pounds.  But he’s ended every one of those six years heavier than he began it.

A few years ago he tried to achieve his goal by joining a gym.  However his busy schedule caused him to stop going after two visits, even though he’d paid for an entire year up front.  The following year he vowed to walk a mile every day, but the winter weather in Pennsylvania put a quick end to that. 

He thought this year would be different, though.  This year, he planned to work out in the warmth and convenience of his office at the church.  On his lunch break he would do sit-ups and push-ups, and he purchased a set of dumbbells so he could do some weight training.  His resolution was simply to do this workout every day.  He figured a couple hundred calories burned every day would add up.

Meanwhile, church secretary Tammy Billings had resolved not to be so critical of others this year.  Not that Tammy was particularly critical.  But she believed the best New Years resolutions were about changing one’s attitude and it was the only thing she could think of that she could improve.  (Increasing her humility did not occur to her.)

Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum made a whole bunch of resolutions.  Michelle was an ambitious young woman, after all.  One of her resolutions was to keep her desk clean.  However before she could keep the desk clean, she first had to get it clean.  This was no small chore.  It had been at least two months since she last saw any of her desktop.  The surface had been completely subsumed by an ever-shifting pile that Michelle referred to as The Mound. 

Though she was part of the digital generation, Michelle had a nagging distrust of computers, so she made it a point to keep hard copies of all important paperwork.  She also liked to jot down ideas for sermons and church activities on little sticky notes.  And she collected knickknacks.  The paperwork, sticky notes and knickknacks all fed The Mound. 

The Mound also liked to hide things – things like Michelle’s phone and computer keyboard.  Michelle thought of The Mound like a creature from an old 1950’s sci-fi movie slowly sucking anything that came too close into its belly.

So when Michelle arrived at the church the Monday after New Year’s Day, she went immediately to the main office to order a new file cabinet with which to cage The Mound.  She found Pastor O’Donnell showing Tammy the new dumbbells he’d purchased for his resolution.  Michelle told them about her resolution as well.

Tammy had some doubts about both pastors’ plans, but, remembering her own resolution, she said, “I’m sure you’ll both be very successful.”  Then she got out the office supply catalog and gave Michelle an order form.  She suggested Michelle fill out the form there, rather than take it back to her office downstairs.  After all, The Mound hadn’t been tamed just yet.

It would take a couple days for the filing cabinet to arrive, so in the meantime Michelle set about surgically disemboweling The Mound and dividing its innards into piles that would go into carefully labeled individual file folders.  As The Mound gradually shrank, its offspring spread across Michelle’s floor and out into the hallway.

Michelle uncovered several unusual things as she dissected The Mound over the next two days.  The most disturbing was the petrified remains of a half eaten sandwich that she dated back to November based on papers in the surrounding strata.  Most surprising was a necklace made of seashells – surprising because Michelle didn’t remember ever owning a necklace made of seashells.  Most valuable was a check reimbursing her for food she had bought for a church activity in October.  She smiled as she considered how great it was to find money, even if it was your own money that you simply misplaced.

Then her smile faded as she noticed the little message on the check that read, “not valid after 90 days.”  She did a quick calculation.  Today was the eighty-ninth day since the check was cut. 

She folded the check, stuffed it in her pocket, and headed out to the bank.  Tammy caught her before she reached the front door.  “Your filing cabinet just arrived,” Tammy said.

“Great,” Michelle exclaimed.  “I’m going to the bank now.  I’ll get started on the filing tomorrow morning.”

Tammy frowned.  She knew Michelle was making progress on her task, but the little piles spread out down the hallway bothered her.  She wanted them gone as soon as possible.  However, she had resolved not to be critical.  “That’s great,” Tammy said, choosing her words carefully.  “I’m sure when the choir comes for rehearsal tonight they’ll be careful not to step on your papers.”

“Oh that’s right,” Michelle said.  “I forgot about choir practice.  Well, I guess I do have one more day to cash this check.  Let’s get the file cabinet downstairs and I’ll get everything put away today.”

Getting the file cabinet downstairs turned out to be a problem, however.  The delivery people had left as soon as Tammy signed for it, and it was a lot heavier than either of the women expected.  “Maybe I’ll call Ralph to come over and give us a hand,” Tammy said.  Ralph was her husband and the church’s unofficial handyman.

Pastor O’Donnell happened to be walking by just then and overheard.  “Don’t bother Ralph,” he said.  “I’ll move it for you.”

“Are you sure?” Tammy asked.

“I’ve been working out all week,” O’Donnell said.  “Time to put my new muscles to use.”

O’Donnell had indeed been working out every day and he felt great.  According to the scale he hadn’t lost any weight, but he’d already noticed it was easier to do his exercise regimen.

O’Donnell retrieved the hand truck from the storeroom, slid it under the file cabinet, and wheeled it to the stairs.  The file cabinet was heavier than he had expected, as well.  His confidence in his improved conditioning began to waver.  He lowered the file cabinet step by step, his face red, sweat trickling down his temple.  He managed to get it wheeled into Michelle’s office, but just barely.

“Thanks so much,” Michelle said.

“Any…time,” O’Donnell panted.  “Okay…I’m going…to do my workout.”  He staggered out of her office and back upstairs.  When he reached his office, he closed the door and lay down on the floor.  He glanced over at the dumbbells, but left them where they were.  He decided moving the file cabinet would count as his exercise for the day.

Michelle immediately got to work filing her little stacks of paper in the new file cabinet.  She worked late, finally shoving the last file folder in just before nine.  By then every drawer of the cabinet was filled to near bursting.  She had to wriggle that last file back and forth to force it into place.

But The Mound was gone.  Michelle looked proudly at the clean, empty expanse of desk.  The year was getting off to a good start.  She went home to make herself some dinner.

The next morning Tammy came down to admire Michelle’s success.  The desk wasn’t quite empty anymore – Michelle had some sermon notes out, and she’d set the old expense check by her monitor so she wouldn’t forget to deposit it before the end of the day.  Still, the transformation was miraculous and Tammy told her so.

“I think I’m going to need another filing cabinet if I’m going to keep it clean,” Michelle said.  “This one’s already full.”

Tammy ran up to get the office supply catalog and order form.  As she passed Pastor O’Donnell’s office, she noticed he was lying on the floor.

“Doing your exercises?” Tammy asked.

“No,” O’Donnell replied, “my back really hurts today.  I think I better take the day off.”

When Tammy got back to Michelle’s office, Michelle was on the phone so Tammy just slipped the catalog and form onto the desk.

Later that afternoon, Tammy went to Michelle’s office again to bring her a report sent over by the district.  “Thanks,” Michelle said and set the report on what was now a small pile by her monitor. 

Tammy frowned as she realized that pile was a new baby mound, and it was growing fast.  “Did you fill out the order form for that second file cabinet?” she asked.

“Oh,” Michelle said.  “I forgot.  Let’s see, the catalog is under here somewhere…” She dug through the pile until she came across her still un-cashed check.

“Oh shoot, I’ve got to get this to the bank before it closes!” She leapt up and ran out the door, calling back over her shoulder, “I’ll get the order form to you tomorrow.”

“Yeah right,” Tammy muttered as she headed back to the main office.  “That woman will never get herself organized.”

It was the seventh day of the year and O’Donnell, Michelle, and Tammy had all failed in their resolutions. 

Which was two days longer than it had taken the previous year.

The Un-Decorating

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Each year, a few days after Christmas, a small group gathers in the sanctuary to take down the Christmas decorations. Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell always has mixed feelings about this day. On the one hand, he loves the Christmas season and this final annual ritual makes him melancholy. On the other hand, church secretary Tammy Billings always brings Christmas leftovers – including plenty of pie and cookies. Tammy is an excellent cook but a light eater. And her husband Ralph is a bit of a health nut, which means O’Donnell traditionally gets to overindulge to his heart’s content.

Every year the church has asked for volunteers to help with the project, but invariably the only people who show up are Tammy, Ralph, and Pastor O’Donnell. Normally this was fine with the pastor. It meant more of Tammy’s goodies for him. Last year the church brought on a new young Associate Pastor named Michelle Tellum who felt obliged to help with the un-decorating as well, but O’Donnell didn’t mind because she didn’t eat much. Unfortunately this year she also brought her boyfriend, Ian, and he could eat quite a bit.

To everyone’s surprise one other volunteer showed up as well: Missy Moore, a heavyset woman in her forties. As she dug into a piece of Tammy’s pumpkin pie, she explained that she thought the clean up project would help her burn off all those Christmas calories.

“With so many hands we’ll be done in no time,” Tammy said.

O’Donnell agreed that was a plus, but he was concerned because there were only two pieces of pumpkin pie left. O’Donnell loved Tammy’s pumpkin pie, but wanted to save a slice for when they had finished with the work. And the way Ian was digging into a hunk of leftover fruitcake, O’Donnell didn’t think he could count on the pie lasting that long. So while Tammy was assigning duties to the others, O’Donnell slipped a slice of pie onto a paper plate and stuck it under a pew on the left side of the church.

Tammy was determined to keep the decorations organized this year. She’d listed each type of decoration and assigned it a box, which she had numbered. As things were packed away, she would check them off on her chart. Hopefully that chart would allow her to quickly find things when it came time to decorate next year.

Most of the others tried to follow Tammy’s instructions diligently, but she was usually unsatisfied with the way they folded this or coiled that. However she was too polite to criticize so she would often just surreptitiously repack the items when nobody was looking. After all, everything had to be just so or it wouldn’t fit neatly in the designated boxes.

Ralph was the most rebellious of the volunteers. When he saw something that needed done, he tended to just do it rather than waiting for directions. So he frequently brought things to Tammy that she wanted at the top of a box before the things that belonged on the bottom were packed.

About twenty minutes into the project, O’Donnell saw Ralph carrying a twenty-foot ladder into the sanctuary. “What are you going to do with that?” O’Donnell asked.

“Take down the Advent wall hangings,” Ralph replied.

“That’s a two man job,” O’Donnell said. “I don’t want you climbing up there yourself.”

“Fine,” Ralph grumbled. “You can climb the ladder while I hold it steady. Then you can pass the hangings down to me. Okay?”

“Okay,” O’Donnell said, not quite sure how he’d volunteered to climb a twenty foot ladder. He wasn’t good with heights.

Meanwhile, Michelle, Ian and Missy were taking down the decorations on the two trees that had been put up in the chancel. What they didn’t know was that Bart, a bat who usually lived in the church’s bell tower, had taken up temporary residence in the left tree and was currently fast asleep on one of the inside branches near the top.

Michelle climbed up on a step stool to reach the string of lights wrapped around the top of the tree. As she started unwinding them, she woke Bart up. Startled at the unexpected disturbance, he flew out right in front of her face.

“A bat!” Michelle screeched. It was her first encounter with Bart. She instinctively vaulted backwards, spun in midair, cleared the railing at the edge of the chancel and landed on the front pew. Ian, who was watching from under the piano where he’d dived when Michelle had yelled, thought his girlfriend might have broken some kind of long jump record. As she leaped from pew to pew, her hands fluttering about her ears, he wondered if she was planning to go for a hurdles record as well.

If she was, she failed. On her third jump her toes caught the back of a pew, tripping her. She flew through the air toward Ralph and the ladder. Ralph caught her, preventing a disaster.

Unfortunately disaster turned out to be only delayed. O’Donnell had turned at the commotion and discovered the panicked bat was flying straight toward him. He ducked instinctively, throwing the ladder off balance. Without Ralph steadying it, it began to lean.

O’Donnell realized the ladder was going to fall. He reached out and grabbed the nearest handhold – a light fixture hanging from the rafter beams by a three foot chain. He clung to it as the ladder fell out from under him.

O’Donnell was almost as surprised to find himself uninjured as he was to find himself hanging from a light fixture twenty feet in the air. Then a creaking sound drew his attention upward. He could see the three screws attaching the chain to the rafter slowly pulling loose from the wood.

Fortunately, Tammy had kept her head in the chaos. She tossed aside her chart and sprinted over to the ladder. Meanwhile, O’Donnell’s eyes were fixed on those screws working their way millimeter by millimeter out of the beam. He wasn’t even aware that Tammy had righted the ladder under him until she called his name.

O’Donnell stepped onto the ladder with indescribable relief. He made his way down, step by step, his hands trembling. He was greeted by Michelle. “I’m so, so sorry,” she said. “I guess I have a little phobia about bats.”

“Don’t worry about it,” O’Donnell said, just happy to be back on solid ground.

“Did anybody see where it went?” Ian called from under the piano.

They all looked around but Bart the bat seemed to have vanished.

O’Donnell decided it was time for his pie. But when he crouched down to get it, he was startled to discover Bart had beaten him to it. The little bat was lapping at the pumpkin filling curiously. Bart ultimately decided it paled in comparison to a good housefly and took off, planning to relocate back to the belfry. The humans were causing too much of a ruckus in the sanctuary.

O’Donnell thought about what kind of germs bat saliva might contain, then thought about how those screws had been the only thing between him and a painful fall. He decided maybe he didn’t need the piece of pie after all and tossed it in the trash.

He rejoined the others who were excitedly analyzing every second of the brief adventure. Suddenly there was a loud crack above them. O’Donnell looked up and realized the light fixture screws had finally escaped from the rafter beam. Worse, Tammy was standing directly under the fixture. He grabbed her and pulled her aside just as the lamp plunged to the floor and shattered.

“Thank you,” Tammy gasped.

“One good rescue deserves another,” O’Donnell said.

The group finished their chores without further incident and Ian and Ralph took the boxes down to the storage room under the social hall. The following day, Tammy dropped by the O’Donnell residence with a fresh pumpkin pie as a reward for his gallant rescue.

A bit after that, Jose the janitor went into the sanctuary to clean up the broken glass from the fallen lamp. He discovered someone had left a piece of paper on one of the pews. It was full of itemized lists and codes. He didn’t really understand what it was referring to, but it looked important so he put it on Pastor O’Donnell’s desk. Over the next few months it became buried under mounds of paper.

When it came time to decorate the church for Christmas the following year the volunteers had to struggle through without Tammy’s chart. But at least there were no bat encounters.

Rock Around the Flock – Part Two

Hear the story read by the author

Read Part One

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. In an effort to attract more teens and young adults, Pastor Henry O’Donnell had recruited several congregants to form a church rock band. The hope was the modern music would appeal to a younger generation more than the usual dusty old hymns.

Two of the recruits for this band – lead singer Audra Park and guitarist Ian Wells – were excellent musicians. The rest of the group consisted of forty-four year old Missy Moore on drums, Kevin Boyer attempting to relive his high school garage band days on rhythm guitar, and church secretary Tammy Billings reluctantly rounding out the group on her upright bass.

Most of the congregation was skeptical of the idea, particularly the choir who had been replaced by the rock band and the three older women known collectively as the Little Old Ladies. But Pastor O’Donnell urged everyone to give the new music a chance. If it worked, the pews would be filled with new, young members, he promised.

The church already had two regular teen attendees – Pastor O’Donnell’s fifteen-year-old daughter Katie and her friend Tabitha. They were simultaneously intrigued and skeptical about the rock band. But O’Donnell was pleased to see them in the front pew on the Sunday of the band’s debut. It seemed an indication that his plan was working.

The band’s rehearsals had been a little rough around the edges. Missy was certainly an enthusiastic drummer but her beat tended to wander around a bit. Kevin was gradually shaking the rust off his guitar skills but frequently became so distracted by his attempts to strike just the right rock and roll pose that he missed changes. And Tammy’s bass style was more Bach than rock. But Ian and Audra managed to hold the whole thing together most of the time. On the morning of their debut Ian wasn’t sure they were ready, but neither was he sure they could significantly improve by delaying.

The band gathered in the choir room before service. Missy was the last to arrive and she made quite an entrance when she did. She was decked out in a leather mini-skirt, fishnet stockings and a red bustier. Her pale flesh bulged out around the edges of the bustier in a way that Ian thought would probably upset the congregation a lot more than the change in musical style.

As shocked as they were by Missy’s appearance she was equally shocked by their rather preppie attire. “We’re supposed to be a rock band!” she wailed. “You all look like you work in a department store!”

“Or like we’re going to church,” Tammy replied.

“I thought the point was to make the church more rock and roll,” Missy countered.

“Well, there’s nothing any of us can do about what we’re wearing now,” Audra said, trying not to stare at Missy. “We’re on.”

When the band entered the chancel two minutes before the start of service the congregation immediately fell silent, except for Katie and Tabitha in the front pew, who had to bury their faces in their arms to contain their laughter. Pastor O’Donnell stared at Missy and for the first time began to question the wisdom of his idea.

The plan was for the band to open service with their first song. Everyone in the sanctuary leaned forward, including the choir members and the Little Old Ladies. Even the most adamant opponents of rock music in church were still curious to see how the band would do.

Missy tapped her drumsticks together to count out the beat and they launched into their first number, an upbeat if rather generic piece of Christian light rock. Any hope Ian had that they would rise to the occasion was quickly dashed. Missy’s adrenaline caused her to pick a tempo half again as fast as they’d practiced. Kevin had a hard time keeping up so he compensated by playing louder. The congregation slumped back in their pews. Their curiosity had been satisfied and now they were simply trying to get through the audio onslaught.

The band would have been better off just trying to get through it themselves. But Kevin noticed the lack of enthusiasm coming from the pews and decided what they needed was more stage presence. He began channeling the guitar heroes of his youth and tromped across the stage, head flailing.

The guitar heroes of his youth had probably practiced their stage moves, however, to assure that they wouldn’t make the kind of blunder Kevin made. As he danced backwards behind Ian during an instrumental portion of the song, he tripped on Ian’s guitar cord, simultaneously unplugging it and sending Kevin tumbling onto his backside.

Both guitars fell silent leaving only Missy and Tammy to carry the song. Missy tried to save things by launching into a prolonged drum solo. A few members of the congregation began to wonder if Missy was having some kind of seizure. Even more congregants discovered an urgent need to visit the restroom and slipped out of the sanctuary.

Pastor O’Donnell hung his head sadly. But through it all Katie and Tabitha thrust their hands in the air and swayed in time with the music.

Ian got his guitar plugged back in, Kevin regained his feet and mercifully the song came to an end. However Missy made a rather overly dramatic flourish as she struck the last symbol chime and heard a ripping sound from the back of her bustier. As Katie and Tabitha clapped wildly and the rest of the congregation stared in stunned silence, Missy slipped off the drum stool and backed out through the rear chancel doors, her hands holding the bustier precariously in place.

Missy returned in time for the next song wearing a choir robe, which pretty much everyone agreed was an improvement. The remainder of the band’s songs in the service went comparatively better than the first. But only comparatively.

After the service ended Katie and Tabitha ran up to Pastor O’Donnell. “That was awesome, Dad!” Katie said.

“Yeah,” Tabitha agreed. “Our friends will definitely come to church to see that!”

Then the two girls burst into laughter.

The following week marked the choir’s triumphant return with a selection of dusty old hymns.

Drinking Water

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. Last Sunday was a big day at the church. The women’s group was having a bake sale to raise money for their mission project – providing funds to dig a well in a small village in Africa.

Jill Boyer had spent the evening before baking brownies for the bake sale. Jill’s husband Kevin and her daughters – Mary, age four, and Susie, age two – loved her brownies. But Jill was more anxious to see what the other ladies in the women’s group thought of them. For though the stated purpose of the bake sale was charitable, it was also an unspoken competition among the women. Jill knew she wasn’t adept enough in the kitchen to win this secret competition, she just hoped to put in a respectable showing.

When Jill and Kevin entered the sanctuary Sunday morning, they found a man sitting in the pew they usually occupied. He looked to be in his late forties, though his deeply tanned and weathered skin may have made him appear older than he actually was. And though he himself didn’t look particularly unclean, his clothes were old, ragged and stained; and his hair was unkempt and stringy.

There was still plenty of room on the pew – the man was alone after all – but Kevin suggested he and Jill sit across the aisle this morning and she readily agreed. The area of the sanctuary around the man proved quite unpopular. Nobody else sat in his pew – or the one behind or in front of him, either.

Seventy year-old Henrietta Miggins was the chair of the women’s group. She sat with her friend Betsy Davis in their accustomed place several rows behind the stranger. Henrietta had made three of her legendary apple tarts for the bake sale and Betsy had baked five pies. The two women studied the stranger as they waited for service to start. “I wonder how someone like that ended up in a nice neighborhood church like this,” Henrietta whispered.

“It’s sad, really,” Betsy sighed. “Bless his heart.”

Up in the chancel Pastor Henry O’Donnell had also noticed the man. Henry had not brought anything for the bake sale, of course, as it was a women’s group activity and he was of the wrong gender to participate in that way. But he was anxious to purchase one of Henrietta’s tarts. He looked forward to the bake sale every year because of those juicy, tangy-sweet tarts.

“I bet that guy’s going to want to talk to me after the service,” Henry thought as he watched the man. “He’ll probably ask for a handout or something, too. Well, he’ll just have to wait until after I buy my tart.”

Church Secretary Tammy Billing’s specialty was banana bread. She had made six loaves to sell. She was also in charge of the cash register at the bake sale. But Tammy noticed how nobody greeted the newcomer. Tammy believed that everybody – no matter how they might appear – deserved to be greeted when they came to the church for the first time. So she made it a point to intercept the man after service and introduce herself.

“My name’s Bobby,” he told her.

“Welcome, Bobby,” she said. “Would you like to join us in the Social Hall for coffee?”

Bobby said he would so Tammy showed him the way and pointed out the table for coffee and refreshments. Then she excused herself so she could prepare the cash register. She took a quick detour to the bathroom to wash her hands before joining the other women at the far end of the social hall where the bake sale was being set up.

Kevin had retrieved his daughters from Sunday school and they got in the refreshment line behind Bobby. Kevin watched as Bobby carefully plucked a single cookie from a serving platter and placed it on a paper plate.

Once Bobby had moved on to the coffee machine, four-year-old Mary reached for a cookie. Kevin stopped her. “There are two dozen of your Mom’s brownies at home that she didn’t think were perfect enough for the bake sale. You can wait for one of those.”

He got the girls some juice and carrot sticks and then went to find a pair of tongs to put on the cookie platter. As soon as he was out of sight the girls ditched the carrot sticks and helped themselves to a couple of the forbidden cookies. They were confident they would still find room for brownies when they got home.

While Jill was setting her brownies out on the folding tables she happened to look out the window and notice a tan dog lying under the bushes across the courtyard. She couldn’t make it out very well, but it appeared to be a cross between a Labrador and some kind of hound dog. She pointed it out to Tammy.

“Do you think it’s a stray?” Jill asked.

“I don’t know,” Tammy said. “I’ll tell the pastor.”

Pastor O’Donnell was standing in the line that was already forming in anticipation of the bake sale. He had rushed over as soon as he finished greeting his congregants as they exited the service. There were five people ahead of him and he wondered anxiously how many of them were in the market for an apple tart.

Tammy marched up and said, “There’s a dog out in the courtyard.”

“What kind of dog?”

“I don’t know,” Tammy replied. “But we ought to do something before any of the children go outside.”

“Okay,” O’Donnell said grumpily. “I’ll find Ralph and have him look into it as soon as I’ve bought my apple tart.”

Henrietta, who was supervising the bake sale set up, had overheard this conversation. She went to the window to see the animal for herself. It sure looked like a mangy stray to her. She spotted Bobby standing quietly in the corner sipping his coffee and tromped over to him.

“Is that your dog?” she demanded.

Bobby followed the line of her finger out the window. “No,” he replied.

“Because if it’s a stray someone’s going to call animal control.”

“That makes sense,” Bobby said. Henrietta nodded sharply and returned to her post.

Tammy announced the bake sale open for business and the tables were mobbed. In the next fourteen minutes they raised over three hundred dollars toward the African well. Jill sold three of her five plates of brownies. All of Henrietta’s tarts sold, of course.

O’Donnell cradled the box containing his tart gently in his arms and congratulated Henrietta on the fine charitable work the women’s group had accomplished. “You ladies are truly a credit to the church,” he noted.

As the crowd started to thin, Bobby shuffled over to Tammy. “Excuse me,” he said. “Would it be possible for me to get some water?”

Tammy was about to tell him that she was a little busy at the moment, but Bobby looked so meek and earnest she didn’t have the heart. She asked Jill to watch the cash register and retrieved a bottle of water from the kitchen. Bobby thanked her and shuffled off.

As Tammy was sitting back down at the cash register, Jill said, “look,” and pointed out the window. Outside Bobby was approaching the dog. He crouched down next to it and poured water from the bottle into a paper cup. The dog lapped from it thirstily.

Tammy went outside. “I thought that wasn’t your dog,” she said.

“It’s not,” Bobby replied. “According to the tag it belongs to someone named Mona. There’s a phone number here.”

Startled, Tammy came closer. Through the window she hadn’t even noticed the dog’s collar, which was almost the same color as its fur.

Tammy dialed the number on her cell phone. It turned out Mona was thirteen and lived two miles away. Her dog Winston had gone missing two days before and she was very excited to hear that he’d been found. She said she’d be right over.

Bobby handed Tammy the empty plastic water bottle. “You know, these aren’t very good for the environment,” he said. Then he went inside and bought the fourth plate of Jill’s brownies. Jill gave him the last plate as a gift. He protested, but she assured him she had plenty at home.

Mona was reunited with Winston twenty minutes later. Nobody at the little church ever saw Bobby again.