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. This year, choir director Shane Reed organized a church softball team called The Miracles to play in the Normal Interdenominational Summer Softball League. The team was 0-5 going into the sixth and final game of the season before the playoffs, from which they’d sadly been eliminated by their fourth game.
Fortunately, their last opponent was the Ephesians, a team from a small church in the suburbs. The Ephesians were only 2-3 and represented the Miracles’ best chance at gaining at least one victory before the end of the season.
Shane had extra reason to want to make a good showing. While he was warming up, he spotted Kelly, a player from another team in the league, sitting in the stands. Shane had developed a little crush on Kelly while her team was pounding the Miracles in their first game. He knew Kelly was dating the league umpire who was assigned to their game that day, most likely why she was in attendance. Shane’s heart didn’t seem put off by that fact, regardless of what his brain might advise. Shane’s brain was usually the loser in battles with his other organs.
When it was the Miracles’ turn to hit in the bottom of the first inning, Shane headed out to home plate. The Ephesians’ catcher was a fit woman with a bright red perm who looked to be in her sixties. As Shane got into his stance, the catcher crouched down, her knees popping like two pistol shots.
“They tell me you’re the coach of this pathetic bunch of losers,” the catcher said.
“Excuse me?” Shane asked, startled.
“Play ball,” the umpire called out.
Shane turned his attention to the pitcher. As the pitcher wound up, the catcher hissed, “From the looks of your little girl arms, maybe you’d be better off forming a jacks team.”
Shane tried to focus on the incoming ball, but the older woman’s heckling had thrown him and he missed badly.
“I take it back. Most little girls I know have better hand-eye coordination than that.”
Shane looked to the umpire for help. He just shrugged. “As long as she keeps it clean, I don’t see a problem with a little friendly banter.”
Shane turned back toward the pitcher and tightened his grip on the bat.
“Want to call your mommy and complain to her, too, you little whiner?” the catcher said.
Shane ignored the taunt and took a swing as the pitch came in. He caught a piece of the ball, grounding to third and was thrown out as he reached first base. As he shuffled back to the dugout, he snuck a peek toward Kelly. She was eating a hot dog, apparently oblivious to his humiliation.
Shane wasn’t the only target of the catcher’s taunts, and as the game progressed the Miracles spent a good deal of time in the dugout crafting snappy comebacks. Despite the distraction, they managed to keep the game close. The two teams seemed fairly evenly matched on skill level.
As they went to the bottom of the seventh and final inning, the Ephesians were up by only a single run. With no outs and the bases empty, they had reached the top of the batting order again which meant Shane headed back to the plate.
“Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew,” the catcher cackled as Shane got in position. “You know, if you put on a little lipstick, maybe some of the nerdy boys would ask you out.”
Shane ignored her. The pitch came in. He took a quick swing and hit a nifty tweener over the first baseman. It was enough to get him a double. Winning would be the best revenge, he thought.
Del came up to the plate. Del was fond of reminding everyone he’d played a little intramural ball in college. Of course that was forty years and sixty pounds ago, but over the course of the season Del had actually shaken off a good deal of the rust and even a couple of the pounds. After looking at a ball low and inside, he pounded a pop fly deep into left field.
Shane made it home easily, smirking at the catcher.
“You even run like a girl,” she informed him.
“Tie game,” he replied.
“Time,” the umpire called. He was looking out to second where Del was doubled over, hands on his knees, sucking in big gulps of air. “Is he going to be okay?” the umpire asked.
Shane shrugged. Del may have regained some of his skills, but his conditioning regimen the last few decades mostly involved doing bicep curls with potato chips as he sat on the couch watching TV.
After a few minutes Del regained his composure and signaled that he was ready. Next up for the Miracles was Thad Wheeling.
Thad popped an easy ball to right field. Del smartly stayed on second. Or maybe he was still too winded to dash for third. Now there was one out, game tied, the winning run on second. And the Miracle’s best player, Kevin Boyer was up.
Kevin hit a sizzling line drive right past first base. It was a smart hit – Kevin only got a single but it gave Del time to make a run for home plate.
And Del needed that time. He was doing okay as he rounded third, his belly bouncing like a beach ball in the wind, but about halfway to home he started to slow. His face glowed bright red and a thin strand of drool trailed back behind him from the corner of his mouth.
The right fielder scooped up the ball and lobbed it to the first baseman, sure that the game was over. But as they watched Del’s pace decrease until it seemed he was moving in slow motion, the first baseman realized they might still have a chance. He hurled the ball toward the catcher. Kevin seized his opportunity and took off for second, hoping the Miracles would live up to their name.
Del stumbled forward and fell toward home plate, one arm outstretched. He would later claim it was a “slide.” The catcher snagged the ball and tagged him on the head just as his arm landed across the plate.
“You’re out!” shouted the umpire.
“What?” Del gasped. “I was safe!” He rolled onto his back to better argue.
“She got you, my friend,” the umpire replied. “Two outs.”
“There’s no way,” Del protested from the ground. “She didn’t even…” he trailed off in a fit of coughing. The umpire strolled a few yards away, effectively ending the argument with the prostrate Del. Shane and Thad came out to help Del back to the dugout.
Kevin had made it to third during the commotion. With the game tied and two outs, fifteen year-old Katie O’Donnell came to the plate. Bucking baseball tradition, Shane had spread the weaker hitters throughout the line-up, hoping since it was slow pitch softball, they could just get on base. But Katie had only gotten two hits all season. It looked like the game was going into extra innings.
Katie was so nervous she was trembling. The other Miracles all clapped and shouted encouragement to her. The Ephesians’ catcher was unmerciful.
As the first pitch came in, the catcher made a crack about Katie’s skinny legs. Katie turned to retort, forgetting all about the incoming pitch. By some stroke of luck, as she let the bat fall from her shoulder it hit the ball, bouncing it back toward the pitcher.
Katie began her tirade at the catcher. Kevin took off for home. He realized what nobody else had at that moment. The ball was fair. Katie had accidentally bunted.
“Run!” Kevin shouted as he approached. Katie looked up, looked at the ball, and then took off for first. The catcher realized what was going on and scrambled for the ball.
But she was too late. Kevin skipped into home as she turned to make the tag. “Safe!” shouted the umpire.
The Miracles had won their first game.
Shane bolted from the dugout, promptly tripped, and landed on his face in the dirt. But his enthusiasm was undimmed and he quickly pulled himself back up and high-fived Kevin. Then he turned on the catcher.
“Maybe you would have got made that play back in the middle ages old lady!” he taunted.
Then he noticed Kelly coming out onto the field. He quickly brushed the dirt from his face.
Kelly went up to the catcher. “Tough loss, Mom,” Kelly said.
Mom? Shane went pale.
The catcher turned to him. “Good game, kid. I think your team’s going to be a challenger next season.”
Then Kelly, her mom and boyfriend walked off the field.
“Oh well,” Shane thought. “We finally won a game!” He turned to celebrate with his teammates.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Howl in One
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. Every year the church holds a Halloween festival for the children on the Sunday before Halloween. The teen youth group usually plans their own event at the same time. Karen Winslow, the teacher of the preschool Sunday school class known as the Guppies, is in charge of the children’s festival. Each year she tries to think of something special and original to do. Usually her ideas involved enormous amounts of thankless effort. This year she had her most special, original, and thankless idea yet: creating a Halloween themed miniature golf course!
Karen was not incapable of learning from past experience. On the morning of the festival she enlisted her Sunday school class to help her build the golf course. This had the advantage of reducing her set up effort for the festival and eliminating the need for a lesson plan for Sunday school. It had the disadvantage, however, of greatly increasing her clean up time after class.
Karen gathered shoe boxes, PVC pipe, tin cans, Halloween decorations and various odds and ends to use for construction material. Then she allowed each child to create and decorate their own hole on top of several large pieces of carpet remainders that she laid out in the social hall, late October being a little cool for an outdoor festival in Normal.
Four year-old Mary Boyer loved Mrs. Winslow’s project and immediately set out to create the biggest, bestest, scariest hole she could. It was a complex amalgam of pipe and cardboard covered in plastic spiders and skeletons and topped, rather incongruously, by a pink unicorn Mary had cut out of a coloring book and glued to a piece of cardboard. The whole thing was held together with half a jar of paste. The other half of the paste from the jar was distributed liberally on Mary’s clothes and in her hair. But she was proud of her masterpiece and the other kids were duly impressed. She dubbed it “Pinkhorn Manor.”
The youth group, meanwhile, had decided to watch a scary movie for their Halloween party. Pastor O’Donnell insisted it be rated PG-13 much to his fifteen year-old daughter Katie’s chagrin. But Katie found a movie that promised lots of creepy chills and would, not at all incidentally, give her a good excuse to cuddle up with her boyfriend Joe. She was further chagrined, however, to learn that her father had recruited church secretary Tammy Billings to act as chaperone for the youth group party.
When the time came for the festival to begin, Karen brought out a bucket of old golf balls and several putters she’d borrowed from members of the congregation. Each hole was a tin can placed behind whatever contraption the child in question had constructed. Karen divided the children into foursomes and kept score on a rolling white board in between dodging runaway golf balls.
Mary was in a foursome with Sierra Smith. Mary had fairly good hand-eye coordination for a girl her age, but tended to hit the ball too hard, no matter how often Karen said, “Gently, Mary, gently,” through gritted teeth. By the time they reached the hole Mary built, the fifteenth, she was three strokes behind Sierra.
Mary did not like to lose, especially to Sierra Smith.
Meanwhile, up in the youth group room, Katie’s plan was going along quite well. At first whenever Katie got too cuddly with Joe, Tammy cleared her throat pointedly until the teens created some space between them. But as the movie progressed, Tammy found herself caught up in the tale of a small town party clown possessed by a vengeful spirit. She quit paying much attention to the volume of air separating Katie and Joe. Truth was Tammy kind of wished her husband Ralph was there to cuddle up to.
Joe, meanwhile, was finding it a little difficult to enjoy the romantic opportunity. He tried to act like the cool, calm protective boyfriend. But that creepy clown was freaking him out. He came up with a reasonably effective strategy which involved focusing his gaze on a point just above the television any time the spooky string music started playing. If he didn’t look directly at the screen, he didn’t jump too much when something scary happened.
Back down on the 15th hole, Sierra Smith had just scored a hole-in-one. Mary stepped up determined to match the feat. She hit the ball and it ricocheted off the side of the elaborate edifice of Pinkhorn Manor. Frustrated, she lined up for shot two. That one entered the piece of PVC pipe that led through the structure but somehow emerged from the top instead of the back, knocking the unicorn into the air and bouncing back almost to the original tee off point.
Mary wound up for shot three, determined to get the ball through Pinkhorn Manor even if it meant punching a hole in her creation. She swung and the ball entered the PVC pipe on a perfect trajectory. But the force of the hit caused it to skip over the tin can when it emerged from the other side. It ricocheted off a plastic bucket filled with water and apples for bobbing, then bounced off the wall and arced up through the open door to the youth room.
Joe was staring intently at the wall above the TV while on screen the possessed clown crept up behind a pretty young housewife who had the misfortune to be home all alone. The golf ball sailed in and bounced off the top of Joe’s head.
Joe screamed.
The scream was high and piercing and caused pretty much everyone in the room to levitate off their seats, spilling drinks and overturning bowls of popcorn. Joe was supremely embarrassed by his outburst once the cause of the blow to his head was discovered. But despite the knowledge that it was a wayward golf ball and not a clown’s hand, he couldn’t seem to stop trembling.
Once order was restored, Katie cuddled up to Joe again; but now she was the one playing the part of cool, calm protector. Joe held her extra tight. Tammy almost cleared her throat to intervene, but Joe’s pale face looked so pitiful she decided to let the two teens be for a little while.
In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Every year the church holds a Halloween festival for the children on the Sunday before Halloween. The teen youth group usually plans their own event at the same time. Karen Winslow, the teacher of the preschool Sunday school class known as the Guppies, is in charge of the children’s festival. Each year she tries to think of something special and original to do. Usually her ideas involved enormous amounts of thankless effort. This year she had her most special, original, and thankless idea yet: creating a Halloween themed miniature golf course!
Karen was not incapable of learning from past experience. On the morning of the festival she enlisted her Sunday school class to help her build the golf course. This had the advantage of reducing her set up effort for the festival and eliminating the need for a lesson plan for Sunday school. It had the disadvantage, however, of greatly increasing her clean up time after class.
Karen gathered shoe boxes, PVC pipe, tin cans, Halloween decorations and various odds and ends to use for construction material. Then she allowed each child to create and decorate their own hole on top of several large pieces of carpet remainders that she laid out in the social hall, late October being a little cool for an outdoor festival in Normal.
Four year-old Mary Boyer loved Mrs. Winslow’s project and immediately set out to create the biggest, bestest, scariest hole she could. It was a complex amalgam of pipe and cardboard covered in plastic spiders and skeletons and topped, rather incongruously, by a pink unicorn Mary had cut out of a coloring book and glued to a piece of cardboard. The whole thing was held together with half a jar of paste. The other half of the paste from the jar was distributed liberally on Mary’s clothes and in her hair. But she was proud of her masterpiece and the other kids were duly impressed. She dubbed it “Pinkhorn Manor.”
The youth group, meanwhile, had decided to watch a scary movie for their Halloween party. Pastor O’Donnell insisted it be rated PG-13 much to his fifteen year-old daughter Katie’s chagrin. But Katie found a movie that promised lots of creepy chills and would, not at all incidentally, give her a good excuse to cuddle up with her boyfriend Joe. She was further chagrined, however, to learn that her father had recruited church secretary Tammy Billings to act as chaperone for the youth group party.
When the time came for the festival to begin, Karen brought out a bucket of old golf balls and several putters she’d borrowed from members of the congregation. Each hole was a tin can placed behind whatever contraption the child in question had constructed. Karen divided the children into foursomes and kept score on a rolling white board in between dodging runaway golf balls.
Mary was in a foursome with Sierra Smith. Mary had fairly good hand-eye coordination for a girl her age, but tended to hit the ball too hard, no matter how often Karen said, “Gently, Mary, gently,” through gritted teeth. By the time they reached the hole Mary built, the fifteenth, she was three strokes behind Sierra.
Mary did not like to lose, especially to Sierra Smith.
Meanwhile, up in the youth group room, Katie’s plan was going along quite well. At first whenever Katie got too cuddly with Joe, Tammy cleared her throat pointedly until the teens created some space between them. But as the movie progressed, Tammy found herself caught up in the tale of a small town party clown possessed by a vengeful spirit. She quit paying much attention to the volume of air separating Katie and Joe. Truth was Tammy kind of wished her husband Ralph was there to cuddle up to.
Joe, meanwhile, was finding it a little difficult to enjoy the romantic opportunity. He tried to act like the cool, calm protective boyfriend. But that creepy clown was freaking him out. He came up with a reasonably effective strategy which involved focusing his gaze on a point just above the television any time the spooky string music started playing. If he didn’t look directly at the screen, he didn’t jump too much when something scary happened.
Back down on the 15th hole, Sierra Smith had just scored a hole-in-one. Mary stepped up determined to match the feat. She hit the ball and it ricocheted off the side of the elaborate edifice of Pinkhorn Manor. Frustrated, she lined up for shot two. That one entered the piece of PVC pipe that led through the structure but somehow emerged from the top instead of the back, knocking the unicorn into the air and bouncing back almost to the original tee off point.
Mary wound up for shot three, determined to get the ball through Pinkhorn Manor even if it meant punching a hole in her creation. She swung and the ball entered the PVC pipe on a perfect trajectory. But the force of the hit caused it to skip over the tin can when it emerged from the other side. It ricocheted off a plastic bucket filled with water and apples for bobbing, then bounced off the wall and arced up through the open door to the youth room.
Joe was staring intently at the wall above the TV while on screen the possessed clown crept up behind a pretty young housewife who had the misfortune to be home all alone. The golf ball sailed in and bounced off the top of Joe’s head.
Joe screamed.
The scream was high and piercing and caused pretty much everyone in the room to levitate off their seats, spilling drinks and overturning bowls of popcorn. Joe was supremely embarrassed by his outburst once the cause of the blow to his head was discovered. But despite the knowledge that it was a wayward golf ball and not a clown’s hand, he couldn’t seem to stop trembling.
Once order was restored, Katie cuddled up to Joe again; but now she was the one playing the part of cool, calm protector. Joe held her extra tight. Tammy almost cleared her throat to intervene, but Joe’s pale face looked so pitiful she decided to let the two teens be for a little while.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The Intruder
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. Sixty-nine year-old Henrietta Miggins had been a member of the congregation for sixty-nine years. And ever since the current sanctuary was built in 1947, she’s sat in the same place: tenth pew back on the left side near the center aisle. Which is the same place she’d sat in the previous sanctuary. Last, Sunday, however, she did not sit in that spot.
That’s because when she strode up the center aisle precisely five minutes before the service was scheduled to begin, she discovered someone else was seated there. That someone was a trim woman of about Henrietta’s age, well dressed in a floral dress with matching hat and shoes and a string of pearls. Henrietta didn’t recognize her. And if Henrietta didn’t recognize her, that meant she must be a newcomer.
Henrietta stared at the woman. The woman looked straight ahead, apparently unaware of Henrietta’s attention. Henrietta mulled what she might say to the woman. She finally decided it would be inappropriate for her to ask the woman to move. The head usher, Ralph Billings, ought to be the one to do that. Henrietta went to talk to Ralph.
“You have to make that woman move,” Henrietta said to Ralph.
“What woman?” Ralph asked.
“The one sitting in my spot.”
“There’s no assigned seats, Henrietta.”
“But I always sit there,” Henrietta protested.
“There’s space in the pews behind and in front of her,” Ralph pointed out.
Henrietta’s eyes narrowed. “Ralph Billings, you know my grandfather was a founding member of this congregation. There’s a plaque on the wall outside that says so. My grandfather and his family always sat in the tenth pew back on the left. My father and his family always sat in the tenth pew back on the left. And that is where I always sit.”
“She got there first,” Ralph explained. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Henrietta’s eyes narrowed to the point Ralph wasn’t sure if they were even still open. “We’ll see about that,” Henrietta said.
She marched up the right aisle of the church to where Pastor Henry O’Donnell was sitting behind the pulpit going over his sermon in his head.
“Pastor,” she hissed, leaning over the rail.
Pastor O’Donnell sighed. “What do you need, Henrietta?”
“You must make that woman move. She’s sitting in my spot.”
“There are no assigned seats,” the pastor replied.
Henrietta launched into her recitation of the long history she and her family had had with that church, and particularly their long history with the tenth pew on the left side. Pastor O’Donnell was unmoved.
“You’ll just have to find somewhere else to sit today,” he told her. “Service is starting.”
Henrietta did find another place to sit. Directly in front of the intruder. Henrietta sat straight and tall. She was quite disappointed when the end of service arrived and the woman hadn’t complained once about her view being blocked.
After the service concluded, Henrietta waited until the end of the postlude so she would have ample time to give Pastor O’Donnell a piece of her mind on the way out to coffee hour.
As a result, by the time Henrietta entered the social hall most everyone had already helped themselves to refreshments and was engaged in conversation. Henrietta went to get her usual piece of cinnamon coffee cake. However, the plate that normally held it was empty save for a few crumbs.
“Where’s the coffee cake?” Henrietta asked Tammy Billings who was manning the table.
“I guess it was popular today,” Tammy said.
“But I always have a piece of coffee cake and tea after church.”
Tammy shrugged. “There’s plenty of tea.”
Henrietta made herself a cup of tea, grinding her teeth and mentally adding Tammy Billings to the growing list of people who needed a good talking to. Then Henrietta went to find her customary seat on the couch against the back wall, the one with the good vantage point to observe and pass judgment on everyone in the room.
And guess who was sitting on Henrietta’s couch. That’s right, the same woman who had sat in Henrietta’s pew. And to make matters worse, she had a big piece of cinnamon coffee cake on her plate.
Ralph Billings was talking to the woman. When he noticed Henrietta, he introduced them. “Henrietta, this is Betsy Davis. She’s new.”
“How do you do,” Betsy said in a Southern lilt.
“Well enough,” Henrietta replied evenly.
“You’re the woman who was sitting in front of me,” Betsy said. “I couldn’t stop admiring your hat the entire service. You just have the best taste, bless your heart!”
“I’m going to check on Tammy,” Ralph said and made a hasty exit. He had no desire to engage in further conversation with Henrietta.
“Do sit down,” Betsy said and made room on the couch. Henrietta reluctantly complied.
“So, are you just visiting or are you planning to stick around?” Henrietta asked.
“I do believe I’ll return. I used to attend the church over on 3rd Street, but unfortunately they’ve closed it. Membership had been dropping for years. If you ask me, it’s the lackadaisical attitude of the younger generation. They come only when they feel like it. I suggested to the pastor several times that he ought to call people when they were absent and explain the necessity for self-discipline, but he was never able to muster up the courage, bless his heart. It’s no surprise really. He was practically a child himself.”
Henrietta grunted. “You won’t find it much different here. Pastor O’Donnell’s the same way. Soft.”
“I’m not surprised,” Betsy said. “I saw how he allows his daughter to dress, bless her heart. What must the boys think of her?”
“I’m too polite to say,” Henrietta replied. This Betsy might be a pain, but she did seem to be a good judge of character.
“I’d better be off,” Betsy said. “Perhaps I’ll see you next week.”
“Perhaps,” Henrietta replied.
The following Sunday Henrietta made sure she got to church twenty minutes early. She strode in while the choir was still warming up and took her place in the tenth pew on the left side near the center aisle.
Ten minutes later, Betsy arrived. She walked up the center aisle, stopping suddenly when she arrived at the tenth pew on the left and discovered Henrietta sitting there.
Henrietta looked up at Betsy and forced her cheeks into an unaccustomed expression that vaguely resembled a smile. “Good morning,” Henrietta said.
“Good morning,” Betsy replied, and turned to look for another spot.
Then something quite unusual happened.
“Why don’t you join me,” Henrietta asked.
“Thank you,” Betsy said. “Did you notice that the head usher appears to need a new razor, bless his heart.”
“I did notice,” Henrietta said as she scooted over to make room for her new friend.
In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Sixty-nine year-old Henrietta Miggins had been a member of the congregation for sixty-nine years. And ever since the current sanctuary was built in 1947, she’s sat in the same place: tenth pew back on the left side near the center aisle. Which is the same place she’d sat in the previous sanctuary. Last, Sunday, however, she did not sit in that spot.
That’s because when she strode up the center aisle precisely five minutes before the service was scheduled to begin, she discovered someone else was seated there. That someone was a trim woman of about Henrietta’s age, well dressed in a floral dress with matching hat and shoes and a string of pearls. Henrietta didn’t recognize her. And if Henrietta didn’t recognize her, that meant she must be a newcomer.
Henrietta stared at the woman. The woman looked straight ahead, apparently unaware of Henrietta’s attention. Henrietta mulled what she might say to the woman. She finally decided it would be inappropriate for her to ask the woman to move. The head usher, Ralph Billings, ought to be the one to do that. Henrietta went to talk to Ralph.
“You have to make that woman move,” Henrietta said to Ralph.
“What woman?” Ralph asked.
“The one sitting in my spot.”
“There’s no assigned seats, Henrietta.”
“But I always sit there,” Henrietta protested.
“There’s space in the pews behind and in front of her,” Ralph pointed out.
Henrietta’s eyes narrowed. “Ralph Billings, you know my grandfather was a founding member of this congregation. There’s a plaque on the wall outside that says so. My grandfather and his family always sat in the tenth pew back on the left. My father and his family always sat in the tenth pew back on the left. And that is where I always sit.”
“She got there first,” Ralph explained. “There’s nothing I can do.”
Henrietta’s eyes narrowed to the point Ralph wasn’t sure if they were even still open. “We’ll see about that,” Henrietta said.
She marched up the right aisle of the church to where Pastor Henry O’Donnell was sitting behind the pulpit going over his sermon in his head.
“Pastor,” she hissed, leaning over the rail.
Pastor O’Donnell sighed. “What do you need, Henrietta?”
“You must make that woman move. She’s sitting in my spot.”
“There are no assigned seats,” the pastor replied.
Henrietta launched into her recitation of the long history she and her family had had with that church, and particularly their long history with the tenth pew on the left side. Pastor O’Donnell was unmoved.
“You’ll just have to find somewhere else to sit today,” he told her. “Service is starting.”
Henrietta did find another place to sit. Directly in front of the intruder. Henrietta sat straight and tall. She was quite disappointed when the end of service arrived and the woman hadn’t complained once about her view being blocked.
After the service concluded, Henrietta waited until the end of the postlude so she would have ample time to give Pastor O’Donnell a piece of her mind on the way out to coffee hour.
As a result, by the time Henrietta entered the social hall most everyone had already helped themselves to refreshments and was engaged in conversation. Henrietta went to get her usual piece of cinnamon coffee cake. However, the plate that normally held it was empty save for a few crumbs.
“Where’s the coffee cake?” Henrietta asked Tammy Billings who was manning the table.
“I guess it was popular today,” Tammy said.
“But I always have a piece of coffee cake and tea after church.”
Tammy shrugged. “There’s plenty of tea.”
Henrietta made herself a cup of tea, grinding her teeth and mentally adding Tammy Billings to the growing list of people who needed a good talking to. Then Henrietta went to find her customary seat on the couch against the back wall, the one with the good vantage point to observe and pass judgment on everyone in the room.
And guess who was sitting on Henrietta’s couch. That’s right, the same woman who had sat in Henrietta’s pew. And to make matters worse, she had a big piece of cinnamon coffee cake on her plate.
Ralph Billings was talking to the woman. When he noticed Henrietta, he introduced them. “Henrietta, this is Betsy Davis. She’s new.”
“How do you do,” Betsy said in a Southern lilt.
“Well enough,” Henrietta replied evenly.
“You’re the woman who was sitting in front of me,” Betsy said. “I couldn’t stop admiring your hat the entire service. You just have the best taste, bless your heart!”
“I’m going to check on Tammy,” Ralph said and made a hasty exit. He had no desire to engage in further conversation with Henrietta.
“Do sit down,” Betsy said and made room on the couch. Henrietta reluctantly complied.
“So, are you just visiting or are you planning to stick around?” Henrietta asked.
“I do believe I’ll return. I used to attend the church over on 3rd Street, but unfortunately they’ve closed it. Membership had been dropping for years. If you ask me, it’s the lackadaisical attitude of the younger generation. They come only when they feel like it. I suggested to the pastor several times that he ought to call people when they were absent and explain the necessity for self-discipline, but he was never able to muster up the courage, bless his heart. It’s no surprise really. He was practically a child himself.”
Henrietta grunted. “You won’t find it much different here. Pastor O’Donnell’s the same way. Soft.”
“I’m not surprised,” Betsy said. “I saw how he allows his daughter to dress, bless her heart. What must the boys think of her?”
“I’m too polite to say,” Henrietta replied. This Betsy might be a pain, but she did seem to be a good judge of character.
“I’d better be off,” Betsy said. “Perhaps I’ll see you next week.”
“Perhaps,” Henrietta replied.
The following Sunday Henrietta made sure she got to church twenty minutes early. She strode in while the choir was still warming up and took her place in the tenth pew on the left side near the center aisle.
Ten minutes later, Betsy arrived. She walked up the center aisle, stopping suddenly when she arrived at the tenth pew on the left and discovered Henrietta sitting there.
Henrietta looked up at Betsy and forced her cheeks into an unaccustomed expression that vaguely resembled a smile. “Good morning,” Henrietta said.
“Good morning,” Betsy replied, and turned to look for another spot.
Then something quite unusual happened.
“Why don’t you join me,” Henrietta asked.
“Thank you,” Betsy said. “Did you notice that the head usher appears to need a new razor, bless his heart.”
“I did notice,” Henrietta said as she scooted over to make room for her new friend.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
First and Long
by Douglas J. Eboch
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 recent Sunday Jill Boyer read the scripture in service. Reading from the Bible in front of a church full of people was slightly more terrifying to Jill than taking a honey bath in the bear habitat at the zoo. But when church secretary Tammy Billings approached her, clipboard in hand, during coffee hour and asked her to read, Jill swallowed her fear and accepted. She felt turning down such a request from Tammy would be akin to turning down a request from God.
Jill practiced her passage from the thirty-seventh chapter of Genesis repeatedly in the days leading up to her performance. She always tripped on the same word: “Midianite.” Joseph of the many-colored coat fame was sold to Midianite traders by his brothers. However when Jill read the passage Joseph’s owners always became “Midnight traders.”
Jill’s husband Kevin was sympathetic to his wife’s nervousness and did his best to be supportive. That is until he realized his favorite football team, the Green Bay Packers, were playing a game at noon on the Sunday in question. He suggested maybe Jill would want to trade for a different Sunday to do her reading.
“I’ve practiced this passage fifty times and now you want me to switch?” Jill asked.
Kevin noted the tone in her voice and wisely decided that he did not want her to trade Sundays after all. Instead, he laid careful plans to leave church immediately after the service was over so he could get home in time for kickoff.
He instructed his two daughters, Mary and Susie, to be ready as soon as Sunday school ended. Normally it was pointless to rely on the little girls’ sense of responsibility for anything, but they had long ago learned the dangers of interfering with Daddy’s football viewing.
When they arrived at church, Kevin parked right beside the exit of the parking lot.
“Why are you parking so far away?” Jill asked.
“So I don’t get stuck in a line of cars on the way out,” Kevin told her.
“That’s sill--hic.” The color drained from Jill’s face.
“Did you just hiccup?” Kevin asked.
Jill answered his question by hiccupping again. She often got the hiccups when she was nervous.
“Okay, don’t panic,” Kevin told her. “We have ten minutes until church starts. Go hold your nose and drink a glass of water. I’ll take the girls to Sunday school.”
Kevin dropped Mary and Susie off at the Sunday school classroom and climbed the stairs to the social hall. He saw Jill, her back turned to him, and got an idea. Scaring people was supposed to cure hiccups, right? He tiptoed up behind her, clamped both hands on her waist and yelled, “BOO!”
Nobody said it was a good idea.
Jill jumped and screamed. Then she turned slowly toward Kevin. She had a furious look in her eye and a big red stain on the front of her blouse.
“They didn’t have the water out yet,” she said, “so I was holding my nose and drinking punch.” She crumpled the now empty paper cup in her fist and hiccupped.
Stupid old wives tales, Kevin thought.
“What (hic) am I going to do?” Jill said. “I can’t go up there to read the scripture looking like this (hic)! The service is going to start in a couple minutes!”
“I have an idea,” Kevin said and ran toward the door. He returned moments later proudly carrying a sweatshirt. “I had this in the car. Lucky, huh?”
Jill held up the sweatshirt. It was emblazoned with a Green Bay Packers logo. “Yeah, (hic). Lucky.”
But Jill had few options at that point. She put the sweatshirt on over her stained blouse and they raced into the sanctuary just as head usher Ralph Billings was closing the door. “I don’t know if I can let you in wearing that!” Ralph said with a wink.
You see, Normal, Pennsylvania didn’t have its own pro football team, but due to its proximity to Pittsburgh most of the locals were Steelers fans.
Jill and Kevin took seats in the back. As it got closer to her time to read, her hiccups seemed to get worse. Finally, the choir finished the anthem and sat down. The big moment had arrived.
Jill walked up the center aisle to the lectern. When she stepped up to the microphone a ripple of whispers went through the congregation. Her gaze fell on Kevin. If looks could kill Pastor O’Donnell would have been doing a funeral service that afternoon. But the good news was Jill’s hiccups had stopped. In fact, the cold fury that flowed through her veins so calmed her, she even pronounced “Midianite” correctly. However if Kevin thought she’d thank him for that, he was more foolish than Jill looked.
When she returned to the pew, Kevin leaned over and whispered, “great job, Honey.”
“Thank you,” Jill replied.
“Are you mad?” he asked.
“No,” she lied.
As soon as service ended, Kevin grabbed Jill’s hand and made a bolt for the door. As they left the sanctuary and headed toward the Sunday school rooms, however, Jill held him back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.
“To get the girls. The game starts in fifteen minutes.”
“We ought to at least stop by coffee hour,” Jill said.
“But…kick off…”
Jill shot him another near fatal look. Kevin resisted the urge to duck. “Okay, but can we make it quick?”
“Sure,” she lied again.
For the next hour Jill was the most vivacious social butterfly at coffee hour. She elicited long stories from nearly everyone present. When the Boyers finally made it back to the car they were among the last ones left in the parking lot. “Guess you didn’t need to park so close to the exit, Daddy,” Mary said.
In the end, Kevin had ensconced himself on the couch by the middle of the second quarter. Jill felt a little bad for delaying him and made some hot wings for him to snack on during the game. And the Packers won, so as far as Kevin was concerned, it had been a great day.
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 recent Sunday Jill Boyer read the scripture in service. Reading from the Bible in front of a church full of people was slightly more terrifying to Jill than taking a honey bath in the bear habitat at the zoo. But when church secretary Tammy Billings approached her, clipboard in hand, during coffee hour and asked her to read, Jill swallowed her fear and accepted. She felt turning down such a request from Tammy would be akin to turning down a request from God.
Jill practiced her passage from the thirty-seventh chapter of Genesis repeatedly in the days leading up to her performance. She always tripped on the same word: “Midianite.” Joseph of the many-colored coat fame was sold to Midianite traders by his brothers. However when Jill read the passage Joseph’s owners always became “Midnight traders.”
Jill’s husband Kevin was sympathetic to his wife’s nervousness and did his best to be supportive. That is until he realized his favorite football team, the Green Bay Packers, were playing a game at noon on the Sunday in question. He suggested maybe Jill would want to trade for a different Sunday to do her reading.
“I’ve practiced this passage fifty times and now you want me to switch?” Jill asked.
Kevin noted the tone in her voice and wisely decided that he did not want her to trade Sundays after all. Instead, he laid careful plans to leave church immediately after the service was over so he could get home in time for kickoff.
He instructed his two daughters, Mary and Susie, to be ready as soon as Sunday school ended. Normally it was pointless to rely on the little girls’ sense of responsibility for anything, but they had long ago learned the dangers of interfering with Daddy’s football viewing.
When they arrived at church, Kevin parked right beside the exit of the parking lot.
“Why are you parking so far away?” Jill asked.
“So I don’t get stuck in a line of cars on the way out,” Kevin told her.
“That’s sill--hic.” The color drained from Jill’s face.
“Did you just hiccup?” Kevin asked.
Jill answered his question by hiccupping again. She often got the hiccups when she was nervous.
“Okay, don’t panic,” Kevin told her. “We have ten minutes until church starts. Go hold your nose and drink a glass of water. I’ll take the girls to Sunday school.”
Kevin dropped Mary and Susie off at the Sunday school classroom and climbed the stairs to the social hall. He saw Jill, her back turned to him, and got an idea. Scaring people was supposed to cure hiccups, right? He tiptoed up behind her, clamped both hands on her waist and yelled, “BOO!”
Nobody said it was a good idea.
Jill jumped and screamed. Then she turned slowly toward Kevin. She had a furious look in her eye and a big red stain on the front of her blouse.
“They didn’t have the water out yet,” she said, “so I was holding my nose and drinking punch.” She crumpled the now empty paper cup in her fist and hiccupped.
Stupid old wives tales, Kevin thought.
“What (hic) am I going to do?” Jill said. “I can’t go up there to read the scripture looking like this (hic)! The service is going to start in a couple minutes!”
“I have an idea,” Kevin said and ran toward the door. He returned moments later proudly carrying a sweatshirt. “I had this in the car. Lucky, huh?”
Jill held up the sweatshirt. It was emblazoned with a Green Bay Packers logo. “Yeah, (hic). Lucky.”
But Jill had few options at that point. She put the sweatshirt on over her stained blouse and they raced into the sanctuary just as head usher Ralph Billings was closing the door. “I don’t know if I can let you in wearing that!” Ralph said with a wink.
You see, Normal, Pennsylvania didn’t have its own pro football team, but due to its proximity to Pittsburgh most of the locals were Steelers fans.
Jill and Kevin took seats in the back. As it got closer to her time to read, her hiccups seemed to get worse. Finally, the choir finished the anthem and sat down. The big moment had arrived.
Jill walked up the center aisle to the lectern. When she stepped up to the microphone a ripple of whispers went through the congregation. Her gaze fell on Kevin. If looks could kill Pastor O’Donnell would have been doing a funeral service that afternoon. But the good news was Jill’s hiccups had stopped. In fact, the cold fury that flowed through her veins so calmed her, she even pronounced “Midianite” correctly. However if Kevin thought she’d thank him for that, he was more foolish than Jill looked.
When she returned to the pew, Kevin leaned over and whispered, “great job, Honey.”
“Thank you,” Jill replied.
“Are you mad?” he asked.
“No,” she lied.
As soon as service ended, Kevin grabbed Jill’s hand and made a bolt for the door. As they left the sanctuary and headed toward the Sunday school rooms, however, Jill held him back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.
“To get the girls. The game starts in fifteen minutes.”
“We ought to at least stop by coffee hour,” Jill said.
“But…kick off…”
Jill shot him another near fatal look. Kevin resisted the urge to duck. “Okay, but can we make it quick?”
“Sure,” she lied again.
For the next hour Jill was the most vivacious social butterfly at coffee hour. She elicited long stories from nearly everyone present. When the Boyers finally made it back to the car they were among the last ones left in the parking lot. “Guess you didn’t need to park so close to the exit, Daddy,” Mary said.
In the end, Kevin had ensconced himself on the couch by the middle of the second quarter. Jill felt a little bad for delaying him and made some hot wings for him to snack on during the game. And the Packers won, so as far as Kevin was concerned, it had been a great day.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Miracles: Game One
By Douglas J. Eboch
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. This year, choir director Shane Reed organized a church softball team called The Miracles to play in the Normal Interdenominational Summer Softball League.
The Miracles first game was against a Presbyterian mega-church located in downtown Normal. The Presbyterian’s team was called The Shepherds. They had won the league trophy three of the past four years due to the large pool of young, athletic congregants. This game would be a real test of the Miracles’ readiness.
The Miracles hit first. Shane, the leadoff batter, stepped up to the plate. As he stared down the pitcher, he noticed one of the Shepherds’ secret weapons: their second baseman, Kelly.
Kelly was a pretty, twenty-five year-old blonde with perfect skin who jumped up and down and clapped before every pitch. Since her position placed her behind and just to the right of the pitcher, this energetic display of team spirit caught Shane’s eye. Shane was noting just how perfectly straight and white Kelly’s teeth were as the first pitch sailed by him.
Shane blushed and tightened his grip on the bat. He tried to focus on the pitcher and ignore the bouncing blonde. He managed to actually take a swing at the second pitch. Unfortunately it was way outside the strike zone and would have been a ball had he let it go. As it was, he missed by a good eight inches. Strike two.
By now Shane was completely discombobulated. He did manage to connect with the next pitch but he had reached for another poor throw and grounded straight to the first baseman.
As Shane slumped sullenly back to the dugout, Del Winslow went up to hit. Shane was not surprised to see Del whiff at his first pitch as well, then pop up an easy ball to the third baseman for a quick out. He suspected Del’s concentration may also have been affected.
Shane was not about to let a similar fate befall Thad Wheeling who was warming up for his at-bat. Shane jogged over to warn Thad about the distraction at second base.
“Don’t worry,” said Thad. “I won’t let her get to me.”
“It’s the smile that does it,” Shane explained.
“They probably put her there just for that purpose,” Thad said. “I bet she can’t field at all. I’ll hit it right to her.”
Thad was as good as his word, sending the first pitch on a line drive right between the first baseman and Kelly. Thad took off along the first base line with a confident smirk.
Then the most amazing thing happened. Kelly launched herself into the air, stretching parallel to the ground, and snagged the ball as it sailed past. She tucked and rolled back to her feet as if she hadn’t just performed the most acrobatic catch in the history of religious sports leagues. Thad stood halfway to first base, mouth agape, as the Shepherds headed in and Kelly casually tossed the ball to the umpire.
The Miracles took the field. Well, most of them. The two teenage girls on the team, Katie and Tabitha, were locked in a heated discussion. Another girl at their school had spread a mean and only partly true rumor about Katie burping uncontrollably in fifth period Friday. They were so involved in dissecting the scandal that they didn’t even realize the inning was over until Shane called to them by name.
While the girls took the field, Missy Moore, the Miracles’ catcher, introduced herself to the umpire, a young man in his twenties with a goatee. As Missy settled into her crouch, she commented, “that blonde girl on the other team is really good.”
“Yeah,” the umpire agreed. “She played softball on scholarship in college. She’s the best player in the league.” Kelly was not the Shepherds’ secret weapon because of her attractiveness.
The first batter for the Shepherds hit a pop fly out to center field - an easy catch for the Miracles’ center fielder, Tabitha. Except Tabitha wasn’t there. She had slid over to right field so she could continue planning “burp-gate” damage control with Katie. By the time Pastor O’Donnell chased down the ball from left field and made a wayward toss toward third, the Shepherds had scored their first run.
Shane tried to keep his cool as he walked over to Tabitha. “Why don’t you switch positions with Pastor O’Donnell,” he said as evenly as he could.
Tabitha pouted as she trudged over to left field and the pastor took his place in center between the two teenage girls. Didn’t Shane understand that Katie’s high school reputation had been jeopardized? Who cared about a silly softball game in the face of such disaster.
The next batter hit a pop fly to right field, right to Katie.
It bounced at her feet and rolled by. Katie was too busy using her cell phone to send Tabitha a text message to notice. The Shepherds went up 2-0.
Then Kelly stepped up to the plate. Shane tried to focus on the game as she got into her batting stance with a little hip wiggle. Kevin tossed the first pitch in.
Kelly uncoiled and pounded the ball. It sizzled right past Kevin before he could even raise his glove, leaving a smell of burning ozone hanging in the air.
The ball rocketed straight toward Shane’s head. He stuck his glove out, relying more on an instinctive reflex for self-preservation than any athletic skill. The ball hit the glove but the force of the impact drove the glove back into Shane’s nose.
The next thing Shane saw was Kelly’s pretty face framed by blue sky. She looked like an angel, he thought.
“No, I’m a Shepherd,” she said. “The Angels are playing on the next field over.”
Shane realized he might have been thinking out loud. It also occurred to him that he was laying on his back.
“Are you all right?” Kelly asked.
“I think so,” Shane said, and sat up. “Did I get you out?”
“No. The ball rolled out of your glove when you fell,” she told him. “But good reflexes.”
After staunching the flow of blood from his wounded nose, Shane returned to his position. Thanks to Kevin’s pitching, they finally managed to get out of the inning having given up a mere ten runs. Shane said a little prayer of gratitude that the league games only went seven innings.
The Miracles did start to gel a little bit in the next inning and handled themselves respectably thereafter. As the game came to a merciful end in the quickly fading evening light, the Normal Miracles were relieved that the final score was only Shepherds 34, Miracles 2.
Afterwards, Shane sat in the bleachers icing his sore nose. He held the ice bag in his glove hand, since that palm had been bruised by the force of Kelly’s line drive. His mood brightened a little when Kelly came over to see how he was.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Shane said, striking what he hoped was an air of masculine nonchalance. Kelly was worried that he might have a concussion but she needn’t have been. Shane’s goofy smile was not a result of his injury. Then the umpire came over.
“Ready to go, Babe?” he said.
“Yeah,” Kelly replied and gave him a quick kiss. They walked off toward a giant, black pick-up truck holding hands.
Del was sitting nearby. “She’s dating the umpire?” he snorted. “That’s not fair!”
“No, it isn’t,” Shane agreed. But they weren’t talking about the same thing.
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. This year, choir director Shane Reed organized a church softball team called The Miracles to play in the Normal Interdenominational Summer Softball League.
The Miracles first game was against a Presbyterian mega-church located in downtown Normal. The Presbyterian’s team was called The Shepherds. They had won the league trophy three of the past four years due to the large pool of young, athletic congregants. This game would be a real test of the Miracles’ readiness.
The Miracles hit first. Shane, the leadoff batter, stepped up to the plate. As he stared down the pitcher, he noticed one of the Shepherds’ secret weapons: their second baseman, Kelly.
Kelly was a pretty, twenty-five year-old blonde with perfect skin who jumped up and down and clapped before every pitch. Since her position placed her behind and just to the right of the pitcher, this energetic display of team spirit caught Shane’s eye. Shane was noting just how perfectly straight and white Kelly’s teeth were as the first pitch sailed by him.
Shane blushed and tightened his grip on the bat. He tried to focus on the pitcher and ignore the bouncing blonde. He managed to actually take a swing at the second pitch. Unfortunately it was way outside the strike zone and would have been a ball had he let it go. As it was, he missed by a good eight inches. Strike two.
By now Shane was completely discombobulated. He did manage to connect with the next pitch but he had reached for another poor throw and grounded straight to the first baseman.
As Shane slumped sullenly back to the dugout, Del Winslow went up to hit. Shane was not surprised to see Del whiff at his first pitch as well, then pop up an easy ball to the third baseman for a quick out. He suspected Del’s concentration may also have been affected.
Shane was not about to let a similar fate befall Thad Wheeling who was warming up for his at-bat. Shane jogged over to warn Thad about the distraction at second base.
“Don’t worry,” said Thad. “I won’t let her get to me.”
“It’s the smile that does it,” Shane explained.
“They probably put her there just for that purpose,” Thad said. “I bet she can’t field at all. I’ll hit it right to her.”
Thad was as good as his word, sending the first pitch on a line drive right between the first baseman and Kelly. Thad took off along the first base line with a confident smirk.
Then the most amazing thing happened. Kelly launched herself into the air, stretching parallel to the ground, and snagged the ball as it sailed past. She tucked and rolled back to her feet as if she hadn’t just performed the most acrobatic catch in the history of religious sports leagues. Thad stood halfway to first base, mouth agape, as the Shepherds headed in and Kelly casually tossed the ball to the umpire.
The Miracles took the field. Well, most of them. The two teenage girls on the team, Katie and Tabitha, were locked in a heated discussion. Another girl at their school had spread a mean and only partly true rumor about Katie burping uncontrollably in fifth period Friday. They were so involved in dissecting the scandal that they didn’t even realize the inning was over until Shane called to them by name.
While the girls took the field, Missy Moore, the Miracles’ catcher, introduced herself to the umpire, a young man in his twenties with a goatee. As Missy settled into her crouch, she commented, “that blonde girl on the other team is really good.”
“Yeah,” the umpire agreed. “She played softball on scholarship in college. She’s the best player in the league.” Kelly was not the Shepherds’ secret weapon because of her attractiveness.
The first batter for the Shepherds hit a pop fly out to center field - an easy catch for the Miracles’ center fielder, Tabitha. Except Tabitha wasn’t there. She had slid over to right field so she could continue planning “burp-gate” damage control with Katie. By the time Pastor O’Donnell chased down the ball from left field and made a wayward toss toward third, the Shepherds had scored their first run.
Shane tried to keep his cool as he walked over to Tabitha. “Why don’t you switch positions with Pastor O’Donnell,” he said as evenly as he could.
Tabitha pouted as she trudged over to left field and the pastor took his place in center between the two teenage girls. Didn’t Shane understand that Katie’s high school reputation had been jeopardized? Who cared about a silly softball game in the face of such disaster.
The next batter hit a pop fly to right field, right to Katie.
It bounced at her feet and rolled by. Katie was too busy using her cell phone to send Tabitha a text message to notice. The Shepherds went up 2-0.
Then Kelly stepped up to the plate. Shane tried to focus on the game as she got into her batting stance with a little hip wiggle. Kevin tossed the first pitch in.
Kelly uncoiled and pounded the ball. It sizzled right past Kevin before he could even raise his glove, leaving a smell of burning ozone hanging in the air.
The ball rocketed straight toward Shane’s head. He stuck his glove out, relying more on an instinctive reflex for self-preservation than any athletic skill. The ball hit the glove but the force of the impact drove the glove back into Shane’s nose.
The next thing Shane saw was Kelly’s pretty face framed by blue sky. She looked like an angel, he thought.
“No, I’m a Shepherd,” she said. “The Angels are playing on the next field over.”
Shane realized he might have been thinking out loud. It also occurred to him that he was laying on his back.
“Are you all right?” Kelly asked.
“I think so,” Shane said, and sat up. “Did I get you out?”
“No. The ball rolled out of your glove when you fell,” she told him. “But good reflexes.”
After staunching the flow of blood from his wounded nose, Shane returned to his position. Thanks to Kevin’s pitching, they finally managed to get out of the inning having given up a mere ten runs. Shane said a little prayer of gratitude that the league games only went seven innings.
The Miracles did start to gel a little bit in the next inning and handled themselves respectably thereafter. As the game came to a merciful end in the quickly fading evening light, the Normal Miracles were relieved that the final score was only Shepherds 34, Miracles 2.
Afterwards, Shane sat in the bleachers icing his sore nose. He held the ice bag in his glove hand, since that palm had been bruised by the force of Kelly’s line drive. His mood brightened a little when Kelly came over to see how he was.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Shane said, striking what he hoped was an air of masculine nonchalance. Kelly was worried that he might have a concussion but she needn’t have been. Shane’s goofy smile was not a result of his injury. Then the umpire came over.
“Ready to go, Babe?” he said.
“Yeah,” Kelly replied and gave him a quick kiss. They walked off toward a giant, black pick-up truck holding hands.
Del was sitting nearby. “She’s dating the umpire?” he snorted. “That’s not fair!”
“No, it isn’t,” Shane agreed. But they weren’t talking about the same thing.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Spider
By Douglas J. Eboch
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 rather large but perfectly harmless spider has made his home in the rafters of the little church’s sanctuary where he keeps himself fat and happy catching flies and mosquitoes. Last Sunday however, the spider decided to take a trip down to the floor. Perhaps the hunting had been bad in the rafters of late or perhaps he was moved by the hymn the choir was singing. Who can really understand the mind of a spider, after all.
Kevin and Jill Boyer were seated behind Henrietta Miggins that morning. Kevin had dozed off, as he frequently did during church service. Since he wasn’t snoring, Jill let him sleep. Meanwhile, Henrietta, a dignified and dour sixty-nine year-old wearing a wide brimmed hat topped by three large fake flowers, frowned at the hymn selection. Choir director Shane Reed favored bouncy, jazzy hymns. Henrietta thought “bouncy” and “jazzy” were attributes more suited to cheap dance clubs than to church service.
As Henrietta frowned and Jill tapped her feet happily to the music, the spider descended on his thin strand of web. His trajectory took him a few inches in front of Jill’s face. Jill was not a fan of spiders. When it came into her field of view, she jumped, barely managing to stifle a small squeal.
The spider continued his decent unperturbed. Jill shimmied and gyrated like a gymnast having a seizure to avoid the little arachnid. Her flailing right hand bumped the brim of Henrietta’s hat, tilting it at a rakish angle. Henrietta turned with an icy stare. She was not rakish and did not appreciate such an adjustment to her headwear.
Jill leaned in to apologize, being careful to give the spider a wide berth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “there’s a…”
“Shush!” Henrietta hissed, cutting Jill off. Henrietta believed one should sit and listen respectfully in church no matter how outlandish the musical selection was.
The spider had reached the floor. Jill pulled her knees up to her chest to keep her feet away from it. She elbowed Kevin in the arm.
Kevin awoke with a snort and looked over at her. “What?” he hissed.
Henrietta turned and gave the Boyers another “shush.” When she turned back, Kevin stuck his tongue out at her.
Jill pointed frantically down at the floor where the spider was meandering around exploring this new territory. Kevin rolled his eyes and stepped on the spider.
The spider managed to slip into the small space between Kevin’s sole and heel, thus avoiding being crushed. The near death experience got the little creature’s arachnid adrenaline pumping on all cylinders. As soon as Kevin lifted his foot, it scurried forward as fast as it could.
Jill gestured frantically for Kevin to finish the job. The spider had vanished under the pew in front of them. Kevin rolled up the bulletin and slipped down on his hands and knees to pursue. He could see the spider crawling along the edge of Henrietta’s shoe. He reached forward to smack it with the bulletin.
He missed.
However he did manage to swat Henrietta’s foot. She looked down and saw his hand, but did not see the spider. She did not know what kind of shenanigans he was up to, but she was certain they were quite rude and inappropriate. She placed her foot on his hand, not firmly enough to cause pain, but firmly enough to trap him. Then she turned back to Jill with an expression that said a great many things, none of them particularly nice.
Jill opened her mouth to explain. Henrietta shushed her.
Thinking the issue resolved for the time being, Henrietta released Kevin’s hand. When she placed her foot back onto the floor, however, the spider climbed on to her shoe.
The spider did not stop there. He climbed up onto her ankle. Henrietta felt the ticklish pull on her panty hose and looked down.
Henrietta was no more a fan of spiders than Jill. The sight of the eight-legged creature crawling up her shin caused her to jump to her feet with a yelp.
The choir had just completed the hymn, so Henrietta’s outburst happened as the sanctuary fell quiet. Everyone looked at her. Startled and embarrassed, Henrietta did the only thing she could think of. She raised her hands and said “Hallelujah.” Then she quickly sat back down.
Choir Director Shane Reed smiled. He knew Henrietta was not the type to express enthusiasm in church, or anywhere else for that matter. He figured she must have really loved the hymn to do something so uncharacteristic. He made a mental note to pick similar upbeat music in the future.
Meanwhile, the spider had jumped off Henrietta’s leg and was scurrying toward a pillar to return to the rafters. He’d had enough of exploring the lower parts of the sanctuary to last him quite a while.
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 rather large but perfectly harmless spider has made his home in the rafters of the little church’s sanctuary where he keeps himself fat and happy catching flies and mosquitoes. Last Sunday however, the spider decided to take a trip down to the floor. Perhaps the hunting had been bad in the rafters of late or perhaps he was moved by the hymn the choir was singing. Who can really understand the mind of a spider, after all.
Kevin and Jill Boyer were seated behind Henrietta Miggins that morning. Kevin had dozed off, as he frequently did during church service. Since he wasn’t snoring, Jill let him sleep. Meanwhile, Henrietta, a dignified and dour sixty-nine year-old wearing a wide brimmed hat topped by three large fake flowers, frowned at the hymn selection. Choir director Shane Reed favored bouncy, jazzy hymns. Henrietta thought “bouncy” and “jazzy” were attributes more suited to cheap dance clubs than to church service.
As Henrietta frowned and Jill tapped her feet happily to the music, the spider descended on his thin strand of web. His trajectory took him a few inches in front of Jill’s face. Jill was not a fan of spiders. When it came into her field of view, she jumped, barely managing to stifle a small squeal.
The spider continued his decent unperturbed. Jill shimmied and gyrated like a gymnast having a seizure to avoid the little arachnid. Her flailing right hand bumped the brim of Henrietta’s hat, tilting it at a rakish angle. Henrietta turned with an icy stare. She was not rakish and did not appreciate such an adjustment to her headwear.
Jill leaned in to apologize, being careful to give the spider a wide berth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “there’s a…”
“Shush!” Henrietta hissed, cutting Jill off. Henrietta believed one should sit and listen respectfully in church no matter how outlandish the musical selection was.
The spider had reached the floor. Jill pulled her knees up to her chest to keep her feet away from it. She elbowed Kevin in the arm.
Kevin awoke with a snort and looked over at her. “What?” he hissed.
Henrietta turned and gave the Boyers another “shush.” When she turned back, Kevin stuck his tongue out at her.
Jill pointed frantically down at the floor where the spider was meandering around exploring this new territory. Kevin rolled his eyes and stepped on the spider.
The spider managed to slip into the small space between Kevin’s sole and heel, thus avoiding being crushed. The near death experience got the little creature’s arachnid adrenaline pumping on all cylinders. As soon as Kevin lifted his foot, it scurried forward as fast as it could.
Jill gestured frantically for Kevin to finish the job. The spider had vanished under the pew in front of them. Kevin rolled up the bulletin and slipped down on his hands and knees to pursue. He could see the spider crawling along the edge of Henrietta’s shoe. He reached forward to smack it with the bulletin.
He missed.
However he did manage to swat Henrietta’s foot. She looked down and saw his hand, but did not see the spider. She did not know what kind of shenanigans he was up to, but she was certain they were quite rude and inappropriate. She placed her foot on his hand, not firmly enough to cause pain, but firmly enough to trap him. Then she turned back to Jill with an expression that said a great many things, none of them particularly nice.
Jill opened her mouth to explain. Henrietta shushed her.
Thinking the issue resolved for the time being, Henrietta released Kevin’s hand. When she placed her foot back onto the floor, however, the spider climbed on to her shoe.
The spider did not stop there. He climbed up onto her ankle. Henrietta felt the ticklish pull on her panty hose and looked down.
Henrietta was no more a fan of spiders than Jill. The sight of the eight-legged creature crawling up her shin caused her to jump to her feet with a yelp.
The choir had just completed the hymn, so Henrietta’s outburst happened as the sanctuary fell quiet. Everyone looked at her. Startled and embarrassed, Henrietta did the only thing she could think of. She raised her hands and said “Hallelujah.” Then she quickly sat back down.
Choir Director Shane Reed smiled. He knew Henrietta was not the type to express enthusiasm in church, or anywhere else for that matter. He figured she must have really loved the hymn to do something so uncharacteristic. He made a mental note to pick similar upbeat music in the future.
Meanwhile, the spider had jumped off Henrietta’s leg and was scurrying toward a pillar to return to the rafters. He’d had enough of exploring the lower parts of the sanctuary to last him quite a while.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Practice Makes Miracles
by Douglas J. Eboch
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. This year, choir director Shane Reed organized a church softball team called The Miracles to play in the Normal Interdenominational Summer Softball League.
On a sunny Sunday afternoon The Miracles gathered at a city park for their first practice. Shane arrived early with a cooler of water and sports drinks. Del Winslow, a heavyset sixty-two year-old member of the choir, was already waiting for him.
“Great day for playing ball, eh coach?” Del called out as he approached.
“Sure is,” Shane agreed.
Del swung his arms vigorously from side to side to loosen up. “If you need any help today, I was captain of my college intramural baseball team, you know.”
Shane did know. Del had told him on at least three occasions. Shane thanked Del for his generous offer.
Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s car pulled into the parking lot. Henry, his fifteen year-old daughter Katie, her boyfriend Joe and her best friend Tabitha piled out. Katie and Tabitha looked excited to be there. Henry did not. Joe looked sullen and bored, but then he was a teenage boy so Shane figured that was probably his normal expression.
Del noticed the shiny, unblemished mitts the newcomers were carrying. “Are those new?” he asked Henry.
“Yeah,” Henry replied. “We swung by a sporting goods store on the way over.”
“Make sure you oil them,” Del instructed, “And tonight put a ball in each one and put rubber bands around them. It will help shape them.”
“Will do,” Henry said, but in fact the mitts would spend the night forgotten in the trunk of his car.
Before long the rest of the team had arrived: hard core amateur athlete Kevin Boyer, his new coworker Thad Wheeling, and bubbly, rotund Missy Moore. Missy brought homemade brownies to celebrate their first practice. As a result, they didn’t get started quite as quickly as Shane had planned.
“All right, let’s warm up,” Shane called out when the pan of brownies was reduced to a pan of crumbs. “Pair up and toss the ball around.”
As the players began warming up, Shane got his first look at his team’s skills. There was some cause for concern. Katie was playing catch with Tabitha. Katie could throw the ball okay, but whenever Tabitha threw it back, Katie would squeal and dodge instead of catching it. Shane had the two girls move closer together and instructed Tabitha to throw underhand until Katie wasn’t as afraid of the ball.
As he turned away from them, he noticed that Del was red-faced and sweating. “You all right, Del?” Shane asked.
“Oh sure, Coach,” Del responded. “Bit warm today, isn’t it?”
Shane actually thought it was pleasantly cool but he agreed with Del’s assessment just to be polite.
Kevin and Thad were a bright spot, making crisp, clean throws back and forth. And Joe looked like he might be pretty decent, even if his method of communication consisted mostly of annoyed grunts.
After twenty minutes or so, Shane called for a break. Del hustled over to the cooler and downed a bottle of bright red sports drink. After he finished, he whispered to Shane, “We’ve got some work to do to get this team in shape, eh coach?”
Shane smiled and nodded, then called for everyone to gather around. “We’ll take it easy since it’s our first practice,” Shane told them. “Let’s take the field and we’ll rotate through hitting.” He then assigned them each positions.
Shane put himself on second base. Del had insisted on playing first base as he had in college. They jogged out to their places. When Del reached first base, he bent over, hands on his knees, and sucked in big gulps of air.
“You okay, Del?” Shane called out.
“Fine,” Del responded, quickly straightening up. “Boy, I’ve missed the ol’ ball park.”
Pastor O’Donnell came running up to Shane.
“You’re supposed to be in right field,” Shane told him.
“I know, but there’s a bee hive over there,” the pastor said.
“Don’t be a wimp,” Del said between gasps, “bees won’t sting unless provoked. Don’t bother
them, they won’t bother you.”
Pastor O’Donnell didn’t look convinced but he returned to his position.
They each took turns going up to bat. Kevin, the pitcher, threw in pitches until each batter hit one, at which time the fielders practiced throwing to the correct base. Usually that base was first which meant Del was getting quite a workout. Shane grew more concerned as Del’s face grew more red. “Do you need a break,” he called over.
“Me?” Del asked. “No, no. I’m just beginning to get into the groove.” He flashed Shane a thumbs up and grinned as sweat dripped from his nose.
Most batters got a hit within two or three pitches. Then came Katie’s turn.
Katie’s fear of the ball was not just limited to catching it. Kevin took it easy on her, tossing pitches in as gently as he could. Still, she yelped and ducked every time. After a few dozen attempts, Shane could tell the team’s patience was wearing thin.
Shane jogged over to Katie. She was clearly embarrassed.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “Just relax. Kevin’s going to pitch nice and slow. The ball won’t hurt you. Just try to keep your eye on it and swing when it gets close. Think you can do that for me?”
Katie looked into Shane’s big blue eyes. Shane didn’t know it, but Katie had a little crush on him. She nodded.
Shane jogged back to second. Katie took a deep breath and planted her feet firmly. She was going to swing at this pitch no matter what. Kevin tossed the gentlest, slowest lob he could manage. Katie closed her eyes and swung.
Amazingly, the bat connected right in the sweet spot. Katie hit a nifty line drive right down the first base line. Del waved his glove half-heartedly toward it, but it skipped past him. Katie opened her eyes and asked Missy, the catcher, “what happened?”
“You hit it!” Missy shouted. “Run!” Katie took off toward third base.
Meanwhile, the ball bounced toward pastor O’Donnell. He scrambled forward to catch it. It rolled between his legs. He reached back, snagged it, and turned to throw toward first. But as he released the ball, his legs got tangled and he fell on his backside. The ball sailed off in a completely unintended direction - right toward the bee hive.
The ball struck the beehive and it exploded in a shower of honeycomb and bees. The buzzing of the angry swarm could be heard across the entire field as the bees spread out in an insect mob looking for vengeance.
“Run!” Shane shouted, though he needn’t have bothered. Every player was already dashing for the cars. Even Del.
Shane dived into Kevin’s car because it was closer than his. As they sat there catching their breath, they saw Del open the door to his car, lean out, and throw up red sports drink.
“I guess practice is over,” Shane said. “But I think we got off to a good start for our first time.”
“We’re gonna get killed,” Kevin muttered.
“It’s only a church league. Maybe all the teams start out like this.”
All the teams did not start out like that as they were soon to discover.
The Little Church Stories will take a break from the Miracles, but they’ll be back soon for “Game One.”
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. This year, choir director Shane Reed organized a church softball team called The Miracles to play in the Normal Interdenominational Summer Softball League.
On a sunny Sunday afternoon The Miracles gathered at a city park for their first practice. Shane arrived early with a cooler of water and sports drinks. Del Winslow, a heavyset sixty-two year-old member of the choir, was already waiting for him.
“Great day for playing ball, eh coach?” Del called out as he approached.
“Sure is,” Shane agreed.
Del swung his arms vigorously from side to side to loosen up. “If you need any help today, I was captain of my college intramural baseball team, you know.”
Shane did know. Del had told him on at least three occasions. Shane thanked Del for his generous offer.
Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s car pulled into the parking lot. Henry, his fifteen year-old daughter Katie, her boyfriend Joe and her best friend Tabitha piled out. Katie and Tabitha looked excited to be there. Henry did not. Joe looked sullen and bored, but then he was a teenage boy so Shane figured that was probably his normal expression.
Del noticed the shiny, unblemished mitts the newcomers were carrying. “Are those new?” he asked Henry.
“Yeah,” Henry replied. “We swung by a sporting goods store on the way over.”
“Make sure you oil them,” Del instructed, “And tonight put a ball in each one and put rubber bands around them. It will help shape them.”
“Will do,” Henry said, but in fact the mitts would spend the night forgotten in the trunk of his car.
Before long the rest of the team had arrived: hard core amateur athlete Kevin Boyer, his new coworker Thad Wheeling, and bubbly, rotund Missy Moore. Missy brought homemade brownies to celebrate their first practice. As a result, they didn’t get started quite as quickly as Shane had planned.
“All right, let’s warm up,” Shane called out when the pan of brownies was reduced to a pan of crumbs. “Pair up and toss the ball around.”
As the players began warming up, Shane got his first look at his team’s skills. There was some cause for concern. Katie was playing catch with Tabitha. Katie could throw the ball okay, but whenever Tabitha threw it back, Katie would squeal and dodge instead of catching it. Shane had the two girls move closer together and instructed Tabitha to throw underhand until Katie wasn’t as afraid of the ball.
As he turned away from them, he noticed that Del was red-faced and sweating. “You all right, Del?” Shane asked.
“Oh sure, Coach,” Del responded. “Bit warm today, isn’t it?”
Shane actually thought it was pleasantly cool but he agreed with Del’s assessment just to be polite.
Kevin and Thad were a bright spot, making crisp, clean throws back and forth. And Joe looked like he might be pretty decent, even if his method of communication consisted mostly of annoyed grunts.
After twenty minutes or so, Shane called for a break. Del hustled over to the cooler and downed a bottle of bright red sports drink. After he finished, he whispered to Shane, “We’ve got some work to do to get this team in shape, eh coach?”
Shane smiled and nodded, then called for everyone to gather around. “We’ll take it easy since it’s our first practice,” Shane told them. “Let’s take the field and we’ll rotate through hitting.” He then assigned them each positions.
Shane put himself on second base. Del had insisted on playing first base as he had in college. They jogged out to their places. When Del reached first base, he bent over, hands on his knees, and sucked in big gulps of air.
“You okay, Del?” Shane called out.
“Fine,” Del responded, quickly straightening up. “Boy, I’ve missed the ol’ ball park.”
Pastor O’Donnell came running up to Shane.
“You’re supposed to be in right field,” Shane told him.
“I know, but there’s a bee hive over there,” the pastor said.
“Don’t be a wimp,” Del said between gasps, “bees won’t sting unless provoked. Don’t bother
them, they won’t bother you.”
Pastor O’Donnell didn’t look convinced but he returned to his position.
They each took turns going up to bat. Kevin, the pitcher, threw in pitches until each batter hit one, at which time the fielders practiced throwing to the correct base. Usually that base was first which meant Del was getting quite a workout. Shane grew more concerned as Del’s face grew more red. “Do you need a break,” he called over.
“Me?” Del asked. “No, no. I’m just beginning to get into the groove.” He flashed Shane a thumbs up and grinned as sweat dripped from his nose.
Most batters got a hit within two or three pitches. Then came Katie’s turn.
Katie’s fear of the ball was not just limited to catching it. Kevin took it easy on her, tossing pitches in as gently as he could. Still, she yelped and ducked every time. After a few dozen attempts, Shane could tell the team’s patience was wearing thin.
Shane jogged over to Katie. She was clearly embarrassed.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “Just relax. Kevin’s going to pitch nice and slow. The ball won’t hurt you. Just try to keep your eye on it and swing when it gets close. Think you can do that for me?”
Katie looked into Shane’s big blue eyes. Shane didn’t know it, but Katie had a little crush on him. She nodded.
Shane jogged back to second. Katie took a deep breath and planted her feet firmly. She was going to swing at this pitch no matter what. Kevin tossed the gentlest, slowest lob he could manage. Katie closed her eyes and swung.
Amazingly, the bat connected right in the sweet spot. Katie hit a nifty line drive right down the first base line. Del waved his glove half-heartedly toward it, but it skipped past him. Katie opened her eyes and asked Missy, the catcher, “what happened?”
“You hit it!” Missy shouted. “Run!” Katie took off toward third base.
Meanwhile, the ball bounced toward pastor O’Donnell. He scrambled forward to catch it. It rolled between his legs. He reached back, snagged it, and turned to throw toward first. But as he released the ball, his legs got tangled and he fell on his backside. The ball sailed off in a completely unintended direction - right toward the bee hive.
The ball struck the beehive and it exploded in a shower of honeycomb and bees. The buzzing of the angry swarm could be heard across the entire field as the bees spread out in an insect mob looking for vengeance.
“Run!” Shane shouted, though he needn’t have bothered. Every player was already dashing for the cars. Even Del.
Shane dived into Kevin’s car because it was closer than his. As they sat there catching their breath, they saw Del open the door to his car, lean out, and throw up red sports drink.
“I guess practice is over,” Shane said. “But I think we got off to a good start for our first time.”
“We’re gonna get killed,” Kevin muttered.
“It’s only a church league. Maybe all the teams start out like this.”
All the teams did not start out like that as they were soon to discover.
The Little Church Stories will take a break from the Miracles, but they’ll be back soon for “Game One.”
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