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 recent rain storm had done extensive damage to the basement classroom used by the “Guppies,” the pre-school Sunday school class, and the hall outside. So the church held a work party one Saturday to replaces some damaged dry wall, repaint and re-carpet the affected areas. Using volunteer labor from the congregation for such tasks helped the church save money. Nobody ever thought to consider the cost in emotional stress until after the events were over.
The work party had been listed in the bulletin and mentioned in the announcements during the three previous services. Pastor Henry O’Donnell had also reminded everyone he talked to during coffee hour the week before. Yet he was still not surprised when he showed up Saturday morning to discover only Ralph Billings, his wife Tammy, and Del Winslow in the lounge.
“Just us?” Del asked.
“Looks like it,” Ralph said.
“Are you helping,” Henry asked Tammy.
“Oh no,” said Tammy, who was the church secretary. “I’ve got work to do in the office.”
The three men started downstairs when a cheery, “Good morning” stopped them. Missy Moore strode into the room wearing brand new blue overalls, a pink tool belt, and a broad smile. “Is this where we’re meeting for the work party?” she asked.
The men looked at each other. They weren’t quite sure what to make of this development. “I brought donuts,” Missy added, holding up a box.
The men grinned. “This is the place,” Henry told her.
After fortifying themselves with a donut each, the first thing they did was remove all the furnishings and toys from the classroom. They moved everything upstairs into the lounge, carrying supplies and tools down on the trips back. They set up a staging area in a classroom across the hall from the Guppies’ damaged classroom.
The next task was to tear out the old, water damaged carpet. Ralph cut the carpet into four strips with a carpet knife. The floor under the carpet was cement so it had been glued down. Whoever did it had used liberal amounts of glue and hadn’t limited the adhesive to the edges of the room. Each of them took a strip and began peeling it back.
When Henry had about three quarters of his carpet strip free, he hit a particularly stubborn patch of glue in the middle of the floor. He adjusted his grip on the loose carpet and leaned back. For a few seconds nothing happened. Then, the carpet jerked up with a tearing sound - and Henry lost his balance. He fell back and his elbow went through the wall behind him.
“Are you all right, Pastor?” Ralph asked.
“Uh huh,” Henry said, yanking his elbow out of the wall.
“Good thing we’re doing some drywalling today,” Ralph said. “We’ll add that spot to the list.”
Perhaps because of this mishap, Ralph suggested that he and Del hang the drywall in the classroom while Henry started painting the hall. Henry might have felt insulted but the truth was he knew he wasn’t particularly handy. Painting seemed like something he could handle.
“What should I do?” Missy asked.
“Well,” Ralph said, “the legs of the furniture upstairs need to be cleaned off. Maybe you could start on that.”
Missy seemed a little disappointed, but headed upstairs to work on the furniture while Roger and Del began replacing the drywall under the window where water had leaked in. Henry, meanwhile, prepared to paint the hall.
Karen Winslow, the Sunday school teacher, had suggested painting the walls yellow and the baseboard and trim white to brighten up the classroom areas. Everyone agreed it was a good idea at the time. But Henry noted that Karen hadn’t shown up to execute her wonderful plan. It meant he couldn’t just paint over the water damage on the lower few inches of the previously white walls. He was going to have to paint the whole thing.
He was using a roller to apply yellow paint on the first section of the wall when Del came out of the classroom to get some more drywall nails. “What are you doing?” Del asked. “You should paint the baseboards and trim before you paint the walls. That way it doesn’t matter if you slop over onto the walls because you can just paint over it.”
“Oh. Okay,” Henry said. He put the roller down and got out the white paint and a brush. Del nodded his approval and returned to the drywalling.
Henry bent over to begin painting the baseboard and heard a ripping sound. He reached back and discovered his old work jeans had split in a most embarrassing spot. He was not having a good day. He found a carpenter’s apron among the tools and tied it backwards around his waist. Then his eyes fell on the donuts. He decided he could use another to lift his spirits.
While Henry enjoyed a jelly filled pastry, Missy came downstairs to check on the boys. When she entered the hall, she was shocked to see that Henry had stopped painting the wall before covering a complete section and hadn’t smoothed the edges of the paint or the drips. She grabbed a brush and did it herself so there would be no bumps or seams in the finished paint job. Then she noticed nobody had removed the switch plates or socket plates. Fortunately, she had a screwdriver in her tool belt and took care of that detail in no time.
By the time Henry came out licking jelly from his fingers, she had returned to the lounge. He didn’t even notice what she’d done as he returned to his work on the baseboards.
Then Ralph came out to get drywall tape. “What are you doing?” He asked. “You should paint the walls before the trim.”
“Del told me to do it this way,” Henry said.
“Del doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Ralph snorted. “Paint rollers create a fine spray. It’ll spot your trim if you do it last.”
“Oh. Okay,” Henry said. He put down the brush and returned to the roller.
About twenty minutes later Del came out. “What are you doing,” he started to say.
“Just let me do it my way,” Henry snapped.
Finally, Henry finished painting the walls. He figured he’d earned another donut and selected one covered in powdered sugar. Refortified, he returned to the hall licking powdered sugar from his fingers and began painting the trim.
Upstairs, Tammy was meeting a young couple who was considering getting married in the church. She took them to see the sanctuary, then asked if they’d like to meet the pastor. “He’s downstairs working on some remodeling,” she told them.
In fact, Henry had just finished with the hallway trim. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Unfortunately, he stepped right into the roller pan and his feet shot out from under him in the slippery paint. He fell hard on his rear, splitting his pants even more. The brush flew out of his hand, bounced off the wall, and hit him square in the face leaving him with a mouthful of paint.
It was the last straw. He spit out the paint and let loose with a string of profanity. He stopped mid-word when he looked to his left.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs were Tammy and the young engaged couple who appeared quite shocked at his monologue. O’Donnell opened his mouth but found he didn’t know what to say…which was uncommon for him.
Tammy had no such problem. “This is our janitor,” she said, gesturing at Henry. “I don’t see the pastor anywhere. Do you know where he is?”
Henry shrugged.
“Oh well, you’ll just have to meet him another time,” Tammy told the couple and guided them back toward the stairs. “Let me show you the bride’s room.”
Henry went to get cleaned up, then treated himself to a chocolate covered donut to wash the paint taste out of his mouth. He was just coming out licking chocolate frosting from his fingers when Del and Ralph emerged from the classroom.
“This man knows nothing about hanging drywall,” Del said.
“Me? I don’t know where you got your crazy ideas,” Ralph responded.
“Well, it’s done anyway. We were going to sneak out for a beer before we paint the classroom. Wanna join us, Pastor?”
Henry nodded. A beer sounded pretty good. They headed upstairs where Missy was finishing up with the furnishings.
“We’re going for a beer,” Del told her. “Do you want to come?”
“I don’t care for beer,” she responded. “But Tammy and I are going to have tea in a little bit. You go on and I’ll finish up here.”
The men headed out. Missy went downstairs to have a donut. She was surprised to find the box nearly empty. She also noticed that Henry had missed a few spots with his roller.. She grabbed it and smoothed over the paint job. Then she touched up some areas where he’d gone a little off course with his trim brush. Her father had been a contractor and she knew all about painting and drywall. She was a little disappointed her skills hadn’t been needed today.
The men returned after Missy and Tammy had left for tea. They stopped in the hallway and admired Henry’s work.
“Wow,” Ralph said. “You really did a good job.”
“Thank you,” Henry beamed.
Then they went to paint the classroom. Though first Ralph and Del had to argue for half an hour over whether to start with the walls or the trim.
(For Norma. Feel better soon.)
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The Miracle of the Pancake
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 recent rain storm had done extensive damage to the classroom used by the “Guppies,” the pre-school Sunday school class. Needing money for repair, the church resorted to a time honored source of fundraising: a pancake breakfast.
They held the breakfast before church one Sunday and sold tickets for two dollars. Church secretary Tammy Billings organized the event while her husband Ralph served as head pancake chef. Also volunteering in the kitchen were Pastor O’Donnell’s wife Jennifer and daughter Katie, and Missy Moore, a woman of relentlessly sunny disposition.
Missy liked to wear bright colored dresses and matching hats to church and she made no exception the morning of the pancake breakfast. So she was very careful to make sure her apron was properly arranged to protect her outfit. Her job was to mix up pancake batter with Jennifer.
The social hall quickly filled with hungry congregants as organist Walter Tibble played Bach between large doses of coffee. Walter was not a morning person. A basket for additional donations had been set by the door, seeded with a few dollars from Ralph to get things going. Everyone helped themselves to coffee and orange juice as the smell of pancakes wafted in from the kitchen.
When Tammy indicated that the first batch was ready, Pastor O’Donnell gave a blessing. He made it quick because he was looking forward to a nice, big breakfast. And with Jennifer working in the kitchen she wouldn’t be giving him disapproving looks when he took seconds. Or thirds.
When the pastor finished, Katie and Tammy served big platters of pancakes to each table. Ralph didn’t disappoint - each one was warm, fluffy and delicious.
Pastor O’Donnell was seated at a table with Del and Karen Winslow and choir director Shane Reed. The four of them made quick work of the first platter of pancakes. When Tammy brought them a second one, they each tried to be patient as the others helped themselves in turn. When Shane plopped his second helping on his plate, he let out a little gasp.
“Look at that,” he said, pointing at the top pancake with his fork. In the center of the light tan pancake was a slightly raised bubble with a darker brown image on it. “It kind of looks like…well, it kind of looks like a woman’s face.”
They all stared at the pancake not sure what to say. Then Karen voiced what they were all thinking. “It looks like the Virgin Mary,” she said.
“It’s a miracle,” Del whispered. Then, “isn’t it?”
They all looked at Pastor O’Donnell. He shifted uncomfortably in his metal folding chair. He was a man of faith so of course he believed in miracles. But he was more comfortable with the kind of miracles where someone comes along to help you out when you get a flat tire on a deserted road. He tended toward skepticism when it came to showy miracles like religious imagery appearing in food.
He studied the pancake closely. It sure looked like an image of the Virgin Mary. “I don’t know,” he said. It might be.”
Del stood up and tapped his orange juice glass with his fork. “Excuse me folks,” he said in his commanding baritone, “you’ve gotta see this.”
People gathered around. The hubbub of conversation grew from whispered questioning to bubbling excitement. And everyone was looking to their pastor to interpret this miracle.
So O’Donnell did his best. “God has clearly blessed this pancake breakfast,” he said. “We ought to respond by digging deep and giving all we can toward the repair of the Guppies’ classroom.”
It was simple but effective. In no time the donation basket was overflowing with bills. And not just singles, but tens and twenties. It would turn out to be the most successful pancake breakfast fundraiser in the little church’s history.
Katie, a typically cynical teenager, had studied the pancake at length. She didn’t know what it meant theologically, but it was certainly cool. She remembered the people back in the kitchen and went to tell them the news so they could see it themselves.
“You’ll never believe what happened,” she said as she entered. Then she noticed Missy down on all fours feeling under the work tables. “What are you doing,” Katie asked.
“I lost my brooch,” Missy replied.
“What did it look like?”
“It was the Virgin Mary. My grandmother gave it to me when I was confirmed.”
Back in the Social Hall, Shane had set the miracle pancake aside. “You’re going to be rich,” Del told him. “People will pay to see stuff like that.”
“Wait a minute,” Pastor O’Donnell interrupted, “Why is he going to be rich? The pancake belongs to the church.”
“No it doesn’t,” Del said. “Shane paid for pancakes and he took that one. It’s his pancake.”
“It doesn’t matter who took the pancake. When a miracle happens in the church, the church deserves the benefit.”
The argument was about to get heated when Katie walked up and plunged her fingers into the pancake.
“HEY,” O’Donnell, Del and Shane all shouted simultaneously.
Then Katie pulled Missy’s Virgin Mary brooch out of the pancake. She turned to Missy who was standing in the door of the kitchen. “I found it,” Katie told her.
“It’s a miracle!” Missy said.
(In loving memory of Evie Austin)
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 recent rain storm had done extensive damage to the classroom used by the “Guppies,” the pre-school Sunday school class. Needing money for repair, the church resorted to a time honored source of fundraising: a pancake breakfast.
They held the breakfast before church one Sunday and sold tickets for two dollars. Church secretary Tammy Billings organized the event while her husband Ralph served as head pancake chef. Also volunteering in the kitchen were Pastor O’Donnell’s wife Jennifer and daughter Katie, and Missy Moore, a woman of relentlessly sunny disposition.
Missy liked to wear bright colored dresses and matching hats to church and she made no exception the morning of the pancake breakfast. So she was very careful to make sure her apron was properly arranged to protect her outfit. Her job was to mix up pancake batter with Jennifer.
The social hall quickly filled with hungry congregants as organist Walter Tibble played Bach between large doses of coffee. Walter was not a morning person. A basket for additional donations had been set by the door, seeded with a few dollars from Ralph to get things going. Everyone helped themselves to coffee and orange juice as the smell of pancakes wafted in from the kitchen.
When Tammy indicated that the first batch was ready, Pastor O’Donnell gave a blessing. He made it quick because he was looking forward to a nice, big breakfast. And with Jennifer working in the kitchen she wouldn’t be giving him disapproving looks when he took seconds. Or thirds.
When the pastor finished, Katie and Tammy served big platters of pancakes to each table. Ralph didn’t disappoint - each one was warm, fluffy and delicious.
Pastor O’Donnell was seated at a table with Del and Karen Winslow and choir director Shane Reed. The four of them made quick work of the first platter of pancakes. When Tammy brought them a second one, they each tried to be patient as the others helped themselves in turn. When Shane plopped his second helping on his plate, he let out a little gasp.
“Look at that,” he said, pointing at the top pancake with his fork. In the center of the light tan pancake was a slightly raised bubble with a darker brown image on it. “It kind of looks like…well, it kind of looks like a woman’s face.”
They all stared at the pancake not sure what to say. Then Karen voiced what they were all thinking. “It looks like the Virgin Mary,” she said.
“It’s a miracle,” Del whispered. Then, “isn’t it?”
They all looked at Pastor O’Donnell. He shifted uncomfortably in his metal folding chair. He was a man of faith so of course he believed in miracles. But he was more comfortable with the kind of miracles where someone comes along to help you out when you get a flat tire on a deserted road. He tended toward skepticism when it came to showy miracles like religious imagery appearing in food.
He studied the pancake closely. It sure looked like an image of the Virgin Mary. “I don’t know,” he said. It might be.”
Del stood up and tapped his orange juice glass with his fork. “Excuse me folks,” he said in his commanding baritone, “you’ve gotta see this.”
People gathered around. The hubbub of conversation grew from whispered questioning to bubbling excitement. And everyone was looking to their pastor to interpret this miracle.
So O’Donnell did his best. “God has clearly blessed this pancake breakfast,” he said. “We ought to respond by digging deep and giving all we can toward the repair of the Guppies’ classroom.”
It was simple but effective. In no time the donation basket was overflowing with bills. And not just singles, but tens and twenties. It would turn out to be the most successful pancake breakfast fundraiser in the little church’s history.
Katie, a typically cynical teenager, had studied the pancake at length. She didn’t know what it meant theologically, but it was certainly cool. She remembered the people back in the kitchen and went to tell them the news so they could see it themselves.
“You’ll never believe what happened,” she said as she entered. Then she noticed Missy down on all fours feeling under the work tables. “What are you doing,” Katie asked.
“I lost my brooch,” Missy replied.
“What did it look like?”
“It was the Virgin Mary. My grandmother gave it to me when I was confirmed.”
Back in the Social Hall, Shane had set the miracle pancake aside. “You’re going to be rich,” Del told him. “People will pay to see stuff like that.”
“Wait a minute,” Pastor O’Donnell interrupted, “Why is he going to be rich? The pancake belongs to the church.”
“No it doesn’t,” Del said. “Shane paid for pancakes and he took that one. It’s his pancake.”
“It doesn’t matter who took the pancake. When a miracle happens in the church, the church deserves the benefit.”
The argument was about to get heated when Katie walked up and plunged her fingers into the pancake.
“HEY,” O’Donnell, Del and Shane all shouted simultaneously.
Then Katie pulled Missy’s Virgin Mary brooch out of the pancake. She turned to Missy who was standing in the door of the kitchen. “I found it,” Katie told her.
“It’s a miracle!” Missy said.
(In loving memory of Evie Austin)
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Barry's Ark
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. On a recent Sunday, Normal was battered by a ferocious wind and rain storm. The weather couldn’t dampen Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s spirits, though. It was a very special day for him. A reporter from the district newsletter was coming to do a profile of the church. They had done one on his old seminary classmate Pastor Robert Sanchez’s church last year with a picture of Robert looking oh-so-smug leaning against his classic 1970 Aston Martin. Henry was going to have his picture taken holding his Gibson Les Paul electric guitar. Sanchez wasn’t the only cool pastor in the district.
When Pastor O’Donnell arrived at the church he discovered head usher Ralph Billings standing over a large, muddy puddle forming at the entrance to the parking lot. Branches and debris had clogged a drainage pipe, Ralph informed him.
“See if you can fix it,” O’Donnell said. “A reporter’s coming today and we want the place to look good. When Henry got inside he told church secretary Tammy Billings, Ralph’s wife, to let him know when the reporter arrived. In the meantime he went into the restroom to fix his windblown hair.
When he came out, Tammy was waiting for him. “I’ve got good news and bad news,” she said. “The reporter’s here. But her car stalled in the puddle in the parking lot.”
The color drained from Henry’s face. He ran out to assess the situation. The “puddle” was now more like a small pond. And in the middle of the pond was a subcompact car mired to the base of its doors. And in the driver’s seat of the car was a very anxious looking middle aged woman.
Henry waded out to the car, ignoring the mud that filled his shoes. He stuck his hand in the open window. “Pastor Henry O’Donnell,” he said.
“Miriam Smith,” the woman replied.
Henry gave Miriam his best “don’t worry” smile and pulled Ralph aside. “We’ve got to get her out of there.”
“I tried pushing the car out,” Ralph told him. “The wheels are buried in mud. Maybe she could climb out the window.”
“I’m not having her wade through this!” Henry shot back.
“Maybe we could carry her.”
Henry thought about it. They only had a few minutes before the service was supposed to start. There was no time to waste. He explained the plan to Miriam and she was game. She shimmied through her car window, one arm around Henry’s shoulder and one around Ralph’s. They made a kind of seat for her with their hands and carried her to relatively dry ground.
“Thank you,” she said, looking a little embarrassed.
“You’re welcome,” Henry replied. “Ralph will keep working on getting your car out. You just enjoy the service and we’ll do the interview and photo afterward.”
Miriam headed into the sanctuary and Henry rushed back to his office. He exchanged his soaked shoes and socks with a pair of old running shoes that was in the clothing donation box. They looked funny with his suit, but he figured he could stay behind the pulpit most of the service.
Meanwhile, the storm had given Sunday school teacher Karen Winslow an idea for a fun project for her preschool class known as the “Guppies.” First, she gathered the kids in a circle and told them the story of Noah’s ark. Then, she told them the class was going to build its own ark out of that children’s craft staple, Popsicle sticks. Normally, any Guppies class project was an adventure due to the imaginative design variations little Mary Boyer always conceived. But this one went surprisingly well, perhaps because Mary glued her sleeve to the table early on and Karen took her time freeing the little girl.
Outside, the puddle had grown from a pond to a small lake and Ralph decided he’d better get that blockage out of the drain pipe. He got a shovel from the tool shed and waded in. He stabbed the shovel into the packed debris over and over, using all his weight.
And then suddenly on the fourteenth hit the blockage crumbled. Water gushed into the pipe and then sprayed out into a runoff ditch a dozen feet away. But the sudden deluge was too much for the ditch. The water overflowed and spilled down the gently sloping lawn toward the church building.
“Uh oh,” Ralph thought.
Inside, services were coming to an end and the Guppies were finishing their project. The Popsicle stick ark was impressive - over three feet long and a foot wide. Karen set it on the floor and had the kids fill it with every animal toy and stuffed animal they could find.
“Mrs. Winslow,” Sierra Smith said, tugging on her pant leg, “all the stuffed animals under the window are wet.
The classroom was in the basement level of the church with a couple of small windows up by the ceiling. Karen was shocked to see muddy water seeping in around the edge of one of those windows and running down the wall. Even more alarming, all that was visible through the glass was more water. The window was completely submerged.
“Okay, kids, line up by the door,” Karen ordered. She had no sooner wrangled the Guppies into line when there was a loud crack and the flooded window gave out. Water poured into the room, spilling out across the carpet. “Go, go,” Karen shouted, “get upstairs!”
“Mrs. Winslow, what about Barry?” Sierra asked as they jogged down the hall. Barry the Bunny was the class’s pet rabbit. Karen had completely forgotten about him. She turned back to rescue the poor animal only to discover water was now flowing out of the class room door.
“Barry’s okay,” Mary called out. “I put him in the ark.”
And just at that moment the ark floated out of the classroom, Barry’s head poking out and his nose twitching in curiosity. The muddy flow pushed it down the hall away from the cheering kids.
Upstairs, the service was over and Tammy Billings was giving Miriam a tour of the church while Pastor O’Donnell greeted the exiting congregation. Tammy and Miriam were coming down the stairs at the far end of the hall when the flood waters rushed up to meet them, carrying Barry the Bunny in his Popsicle stick ark. Both Tammy and Miriam were too stunned to speak. All Miriam could think to do was snap a photo of the strange sight.
A few minutes later Pastor O’Donnell found them. “I’m ready to do the interview - oh my,” he said, noticing the flooded hallway. Visions of fundraisers and work parties flashed through his head. The next few months were going to be a pain.
But Henry kept his composure enough to give Miriam a glowing interview and have his picture taken in the sanctuary holding his prized guitar like a pudgy, self-conscious Jimmy Page.
When the next issue of the district newsletter arrived a few weeks later, Henry opened it excitedly. But to his shock, rather than a picture of him with his guitar, the story was topped by a shot of Barry and his ark, along with the headline, “Normal Church Finds Unique Lesson in Bible Story.”
The phone rang. It was Pastor Sanchez. “Upstaged by a rabbit,” Sanchez said sympathetically. Then he laughed and laughed.
In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. On a recent Sunday, Normal was battered by a ferocious wind and rain storm. The weather couldn’t dampen Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s spirits, though. It was a very special day for him. A reporter from the district newsletter was coming to do a profile of the church. They had done one on his old seminary classmate Pastor Robert Sanchez’s church last year with a picture of Robert looking oh-so-smug leaning against his classic 1970 Aston Martin. Henry was going to have his picture taken holding his Gibson Les Paul electric guitar. Sanchez wasn’t the only cool pastor in the district.
When Pastor O’Donnell arrived at the church he discovered head usher Ralph Billings standing over a large, muddy puddle forming at the entrance to the parking lot. Branches and debris had clogged a drainage pipe, Ralph informed him.
“See if you can fix it,” O’Donnell said. “A reporter’s coming today and we want the place to look good. When Henry got inside he told church secretary Tammy Billings, Ralph’s wife, to let him know when the reporter arrived. In the meantime he went into the restroom to fix his windblown hair.
When he came out, Tammy was waiting for him. “I’ve got good news and bad news,” she said. “The reporter’s here. But her car stalled in the puddle in the parking lot.”
The color drained from Henry’s face. He ran out to assess the situation. The “puddle” was now more like a small pond. And in the middle of the pond was a subcompact car mired to the base of its doors. And in the driver’s seat of the car was a very anxious looking middle aged woman.
Henry waded out to the car, ignoring the mud that filled his shoes. He stuck his hand in the open window. “Pastor Henry O’Donnell,” he said.
“Miriam Smith,” the woman replied.
Henry gave Miriam his best “don’t worry” smile and pulled Ralph aside. “We’ve got to get her out of there.”
“I tried pushing the car out,” Ralph told him. “The wheels are buried in mud. Maybe she could climb out the window.”
“I’m not having her wade through this!” Henry shot back.
“Maybe we could carry her.”
Henry thought about it. They only had a few minutes before the service was supposed to start. There was no time to waste. He explained the plan to Miriam and she was game. She shimmied through her car window, one arm around Henry’s shoulder and one around Ralph’s. They made a kind of seat for her with their hands and carried her to relatively dry ground.
“Thank you,” she said, looking a little embarrassed.
“You’re welcome,” Henry replied. “Ralph will keep working on getting your car out. You just enjoy the service and we’ll do the interview and photo afterward.”
Miriam headed into the sanctuary and Henry rushed back to his office. He exchanged his soaked shoes and socks with a pair of old running shoes that was in the clothing donation box. They looked funny with his suit, but he figured he could stay behind the pulpit most of the service.
Meanwhile, the storm had given Sunday school teacher Karen Winslow an idea for a fun project for her preschool class known as the “Guppies.” First, she gathered the kids in a circle and told them the story of Noah’s ark. Then, she told them the class was going to build its own ark out of that children’s craft staple, Popsicle sticks. Normally, any Guppies class project was an adventure due to the imaginative design variations little Mary Boyer always conceived. But this one went surprisingly well, perhaps because Mary glued her sleeve to the table early on and Karen took her time freeing the little girl.
Outside, the puddle had grown from a pond to a small lake and Ralph decided he’d better get that blockage out of the drain pipe. He got a shovel from the tool shed and waded in. He stabbed the shovel into the packed debris over and over, using all his weight.
And then suddenly on the fourteenth hit the blockage crumbled. Water gushed into the pipe and then sprayed out into a runoff ditch a dozen feet away. But the sudden deluge was too much for the ditch. The water overflowed and spilled down the gently sloping lawn toward the church building.
“Uh oh,” Ralph thought.
Inside, services were coming to an end and the Guppies were finishing their project. The Popsicle stick ark was impressive - over three feet long and a foot wide. Karen set it on the floor and had the kids fill it with every animal toy and stuffed animal they could find.
“Mrs. Winslow,” Sierra Smith said, tugging on her pant leg, “all the stuffed animals under the window are wet.
The classroom was in the basement level of the church with a couple of small windows up by the ceiling. Karen was shocked to see muddy water seeping in around the edge of one of those windows and running down the wall. Even more alarming, all that was visible through the glass was more water. The window was completely submerged.
“Okay, kids, line up by the door,” Karen ordered. She had no sooner wrangled the Guppies into line when there was a loud crack and the flooded window gave out. Water poured into the room, spilling out across the carpet. “Go, go,” Karen shouted, “get upstairs!”
“Mrs. Winslow, what about Barry?” Sierra asked as they jogged down the hall. Barry the Bunny was the class’s pet rabbit. Karen had completely forgotten about him. She turned back to rescue the poor animal only to discover water was now flowing out of the class room door.
“Barry’s okay,” Mary called out. “I put him in the ark.”
And just at that moment the ark floated out of the classroom, Barry’s head poking out and his nose twitching in curiosity. The muddy flow pushed it down the hall away from the cheering kids.
Upstairs, the service was over and Tammy Billings was giving Miriam a tour of the church while Pastor O’Donnell greeted the exiting congregation. Tammy and Miriam were coming down the stairs at the far end of the hall when the flood waters rushed up to meet them, carrying Barry the Bunny in his Popsicle stick ark. Both Tammy and Miriam were too stunned to speak. All Miriam could think to do was snap a photo of the strange sight.
A few minutes later Pastor O’Donnell found them. “I’m ready to do the interview - oh my,” he said, noticing the flooded hallway. Visions of fundraisers and work parties flashed through his head. The next few months were going to be a pain.
But Henry kept his composure enough to give Miriam a glowing interview and have his picture taken in the sanctuary holding his prized guitar like a pudgy, self-conscious Jimmy Page.
When the next issue of the district newsletter arrived a few weeks later, Henry opened it excitedly. But to his shock, rather than a picture of him with his guitar, the story was topped by a shot of Barry and his ark, along with the headline, “Normal Church Finds Unique Lesson in Bible Story.”
The phone rang. It was Pastor Sanchez. “Upstaged by a rabbit,” Sanchez said sympathetically. Then he laughed and laughed.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
The Greeter
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 month, church secretary Tammy Billings finds a member or two from the congregation to serve as greeter, welcoming people as they arrive for the service and handing them the bulletin. Though the job isn’t hard, Tammy found many people were hesitant to commit to arriving early every Sunday for a whole month. So she generally has to recruit from the same small pool of volunteers.
One month, however, Tammy was having difficulty finding a regular who was available. Then at coffee hour she noticed one of the newer members of the church, a woman named Missy Moore, munching on a cookie by herself. Missy was a heavy set woman (she preferred to say she was plump) of forty-four (she preferred to say she was celebrating the fifth anniversary of her thirty-ninth birthday).
Tammy approached holding her clipboard behind her back. People quickly learned that someone approaching them at church with a clipboard was probably looking for a volunteer for something. “Good morning, Missy,” she said.
“Hi!” Missy exclaimed. “You look like you could use a hug!” And Missy threw her arms around Tammy.
“Thank you,” Tammy said. “Listen, I’m in charge of finding greeters for church. Would you be interested?”
“Why sure!” Missy said.
Tammy was relieved. Maybe Missy would join her pool of regulars. Normally Tammy paired first timers with someone more experienced, but Missy was so resolutely optimistic and cheerful that Tammy figured she’d be able to handle the job on her own.
When Tammy arrived at the sanctuary on Missy’s first Sunday as greeter, she was a little surprised to find Missy was hugging each person as they entered. Tammy was well aware that Missy was a hugger, but she thought even Missy would tire of hugging every single person who came to church. Tammy underestimated Missy’s pep.
Though Tammy wasn’t the only one who was startled by Missy’s embrace, most people discovered they were in fact cheered up by the hugs and entered the service smiling. One person who was not cheered up, however, was Henrietta Miggins. Henrietta found Missy’s behavior unbecoming. “No wonder she never found a man,” Henrietta thought as she stiffly endured Missy’s warm squeeze.
When Henrietta strode toward Tammy during coffee hour, Tammy had little doubt about what was coming. “You have to tell that woman to stop groping people!” Henrietta sniffed.
If it had been anyone else complaining Tammy probably would have agreed and gently asked Missy to refrain from hugging while she was acting as official greeter. But Henrietta complained with such regularity that Tammy resented any criticism from her before it was even offered. “It’s just Missy’s style,” Tammy said.
“Well it’s disgraceful. Is this a church or some kind of foreign massage parlor?”
“If you don’t like the way she does it, you could always volunteer to be greeter next month,” Tammy shot back.
“Fine. I will,” Henrietta said.
That was not the response Tammy expected. She immediately regretted making the offer.
That regret only grew when she arrived at church the first Sunday of Henrietta’s month.
There was a short line waiting to get in. Tammy walked up just in time to hear Henrietta greet Jennifer O’Donnell, the pastor’s wife, who was wearing slacks. “I would have thought the pastor would want his wife to dress a little more feminine,” Henrietta told her.
“I’m old enough to dress myself,” Jennifer said as she snatched the bulletin from Henrietta.
Next in line were Jill Boyer and her two daughters, Mary and Susie, ages four and two respectively. Henrietta handed Jill a bulletin and asked, “where’s your husband today, Mrs. Boyer?”
“He’s not feeling well,” Jill said.
“Let me guess. Some kind of sporting event on TV?” Henrietta asked. Jill was too flustered to respond. She simply hustled her daughters inside.
Tammy was appalled but she figured yelling at Henrietta would only make it worse. So she forced herself to smile as she entered and said, “You’re doing a great job, Henrietta, but it might be nice if you complimented people when they came in.”
“You let Missy greet people with her hugs. This is my style.” Henrietta said.
“Yes, but you’re supposed to make people feel welcome. Not guilty.”
“Fine. I’ll do it your way,” Henrietta sniffed.
The next week Tammy loitered near the entrance to the sanctuary for a while so she could eavesdrop on Henrietta’s greetings.
Henrietta welcomed Florence Barker with a big smile and said, “It’s so good to see you here on time for a change!”
As Florence gave Henrietta the stink eye and strode inside, Henrietta glanced over at Tammy with a self-satisfied smirk. Heat rose in Tammy’s cheeks. She had tried to be nice, but now Henrietta was just goading her.
Before Tammy could intervene, though, the entire Boyer family arrived. Henrietta made a big point of looking Kevin Boyer up and down. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt. “How nice that you feel comfortable enough to dress so casually for church. In my day that would have been considered disrespectful,” Henrietta told him.
Little Mary sidled close to her father and asked, “is she really a witch, Daddy?” Jill’s cheeks reddened and she shushed Mary. But Kevin nodded in the affirmative.
Henrietta’s jaw went tight but she kept smiling. She leaned down close and pinched Mary’s cheek. “Well, you aren’t shy at all, are you? It’s so wonderful how your parents’ generation encourages self expression instead of discipline in their children. We were always taught to honor our elders but I guess that kind of thing is old fashioned these days.”
“Your breath smells like fish,” Mary informed her.
That actually stunned Henrietta speechless. She stood up quickly and covered her mouth. Jill also covered her mouth, but failed to stifle a giggle. “Come on, girls,” Kevin said and led the family inside.
Henrietta pulled herself together and turned to greet the next person in line.
It was Missy Moore.
“You look like you could use a hug,” Missy said, and threw her arms around Henrietta, practically lifting her from the ground.
For the rest of the month Henrietta restricted her greetings to “welcome” and “good morning.”
(c) 2008 Douglas J. Eboch
In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Every month, church secretary Tammy Billings finds a member or two from the congregation to serve as greeter, welcoming people as they arrive for the service and handing them the bulletin. Though the job isn’t hard, Tammy found many people were hesitant to commit to arriving early every Sunday for a whole month. So she generally has to recruit from the same small pool of volunteers.
One month, however, Tammy was having difficulty finding a regular who was available. Then at coffee hour she noticed one of the newer members of the church, a woman named Missy Moore, munching on a cookie by herself. Missy was a heavy set woman (she preferred to say she was plump) of forty-four (she preferred to say she was celebrating the fifth anniversary of her thirty-ninth birthday).
Tammy approached holding her clipboard behind her back. People quickly learned that someone approaching them at church with a clipboard was probably looking for a volunteer for something. “Good morning, Missy,” she said.
“Hi!” Missy exclaimed. “You look like you could use a hug!” And Missy threw her arms around Tammy.
“Thank you,” Tammy said. “Listen, I’m in charge of finding greeters for church. Would you be interested?”
“Why sure!” Missy said.
Tammy was relieved. Maybe Missy would join her pool of regulars. Normally Tammy paired first timers with someone more experienced, but Missy was so resolutely optimistic and cheerful that Tammy figured she’d be able to handle the job on her own.
When Tammy arrived at the sanctuary on Missy’s first Sunday as greeter, she was a little surprised to find Missy was hugging each person as they entered. Tammy was well aware that Missy was a hugger, but she thought even Missy would tire of hugging every single person who came to church. Tammy underestimated Missy’s pep.
Though Tammy wasn’t the only one who was startled by Missy’s embrace, most people discovered they were in fact cheered up by the hugs and entered the service smiling. One person who was not cheered up, however, was Henrietta Miggins. Henrietta found Missy’s behavior unbecoming. “No wonder she never found a man,” Henrietta thought as she stiffly endured Missy’s warm squeeze.
When Henrietta strode toward Tammy during coffee hour, Tammy had little doubt about what was coming. “You have to tell that woman to stop groping people!” Henrietta sniffed.
If it had been anyone else complaining Tammy probably would have agreed and gently asked Missy to refrain from hugging while she was acting as official greeter. But Henrietta complained with such regularity that Tammy resented any criticism from her before it was even offered. “It’s just Missy’s style,” Tammy said.
“Well it’s disgraceful. Is this a church or some kind of foreign massage parlor?”
“If you don’t like the way she does it, you could always volunteer to be greeter next month,” Tammy shot back.
“Fine. I will,” Henrietta said.
That was not the response Tammy expected. She immediately regretted making the offer.
That regret only grew when she arrived at church the first Sunday of Henrietta’s month.
There was a short line waiting to get in. Tammy walked up just in time to hear Henrietta greet Jennifer O’Donnell, the pastor’s wife, who was wearing slacks. “I would have thought the pastor would want his wife to dress a little more feminine,” Henrietta told her.
“I’m old enough to dress myself,” Jennifer said as she snatched the bulletin from Henrietta.
Next in line were Jill Boyer and her two daughters, Mary and Susie, ages four and two respectively. Henrietta handed Jill a bulletin and asked, “where’s your husband today, Mrs. Boyer?”
“He’s not feeling well,” Jill said.
“Let me guess. Some kind of sporting event on TV?” Henrietta asked. Jill was too flustered to respond. She simply hustled her daughters inside.
Tammy was appalled but she figured yelling at Henrietta would only make it worse. So she forced herself to smile as she entered and said, “You’re doing a great job, Henrietta, but it might be nice if you complimented people when they came in.”
“You let Missy greet people with her hugs. This is my style.” Henrietta said.
“Yes, but you’re supposed to make people feel welcome. Not guilty.”
“Fine. I’ll do it your way,” Henrietta sniffed.
The next week Tammy loitered near the entrance to the sanctuary for a while so she could eavesdrop on Henrietta’s greetings.
Henrietta welcomed Florence Barker with a big smile and said, “It’s so good to see you here on time for a change!”
As Florence gave Henrietta the stink eye and strode inside, Henrietta glanced over at Tammy with a self-satisfied smirk. Heat rose in Tammy’s cheeks. She had tried to be nice, but now Henrietta was just goading her.
Before Tammy could intervene, though, the entire Boyer family arrived. Henrietta made a big point of looking Kevin Boyer up and down. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt. “How nice that you feel comfortable enough to dress so casually for church. In my day that would have been considered disrespectful,” Henrietta told him.
Little Mary sidled close to her father and asked, “is she really a witch, Daddy?” Jill’s cheeks reddened and she shushed Mary. But Kevin nodded in the affirmative.
Henrietta’s jaw went tight but she kept smiling. She leaned down close and pinched Mary’s cheek. “Well, you aren’t shy at all, are you? It’s so wonderful how your parents’ generation encourages self expression instead of discipline in their children. We were always taught to honor our elders but I guess that kind of thing is old fashioned these days.”
“Your breath smells like fish,” Mary informed her.
That actually stunned Henrietta speechless. She stood up quickly and covered her mouth. Jill also covered her mouth, but failed to stifle a giggle. “Come on, girls,” Kevin said and led the family inside.
Henrietta pulled herself together and turned to greet the next person in line.
It was Missy Moore.
“You look like you could use a hug,” Missy said, and threw her arms around Henrietta, practically lifting her from the ground.
For the rest of the month Henrietta restricted her greetings to “welcome” and “good morning.”
(c) 2008 Douglas J. Eboch
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Video Game Ministry
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. Like many churches, they have difficulty attracting teenagers. Often only three or four teens show up for youth group, usually all girls. And one of those girls is Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s own fifteen year-old daughter Katie who pretty much has to go or risk having her father take a more active interest in her other social activities.
One recent Sunday afternoon, Henry climbed the stairs to the converted attic room above the kitchen where the youth group meets. No wonder they aren’t showing up, he thought as he surveyed the worn couch, stained bean bag chairs and dark, sticker covered walls. Who’d want to come to this shabby place?
At the next trustees meeting the pastor asked for some money to fix up the youth group room. Normally the trustees presumed every spending request was a devious attempt to defraud God Himself, but the one thing that nearly everyone could agree on was the need to bring in more young people. So with surprisingly little debate they approved a few hundred dollars for the project and Henry went shopping.
That much money didn’t go far but Henry did manage to buy a couch, coffee table and several new padded chairs all in dark wood and leather. He also bought a gallon of bright green paint and spent a Saturday painting the stickered walls.
The next day after church Pastor O’Donnell found a reason to putter just below the youth group room as Katie and a couple friends headed up with their snacks from coffee hour. He hadn’t told any of them what he’d done and he wanted to see their reaction and bask in their inevitable gratitude.
“What the hell,” Henry heard Katie say. She stuck her head out of the room and spotted him. “What did you do, Dad?”
“Do you like it?” Henry asked.
“Where are the bean bag chairs?” Katie responded.
“I threw those filthy things out. Do you like the color I chose for the walls? Pretty cheery, huh?” Katie just sighed and rolled her eyes. There seemed to be surprisingly little gratitude for Henry to bask in.
Disappointed at his failure to awe the church teenagers with interior decorating, Henry decided it might be a good idea to ask Katie for her help. “What do you think would attract more kids your age to youth group? I’m particularly interested in boys.”
“So am I,” Katie said.
“Very funny. Besides girls, what do boys your age like?”
“Video games,” Katie said.
Henry sighed. “We can’t buy video games for the church.”
“Why not?” Katie asked.
Henry realized he didn’t actually have a good reason. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. A premium video game system and a nice big TV might just entice a few boys to give church another look.
So he went back to trustees and pitched his idea. It didn’t go over nearly as well as his previous plan. The trustees wanted to know how the new furniture had been received. “They love it,” Henry lied. “But it’s going to take more than a new couch to get teenagers to come to church.” A few of the trustees seemed to recall Henry predicting something quite different at their last meeting.
Henrietta Miggins was especially put off by the new proposal. “I know all about those video games,” she said. Henry highly doubted that Henrietta knew any more about video games than she did about water buffalo digestion. But he knew better than to openly question her expertise on any matter.
“They’re full of sex and violence,” Henrietta continued. “In my day children went to church because we’d get a wuppin’ if we didn’t. If you ask me it’s these parents we have to do something about. Do you see the way they let their children dress these days? Why, if I wore trousers that exposed my underpants my mother would have had me scrubbing windows until midnight…”
Henry zoned out. He’d heard most of this before. When Henrietta finally wound down, he assured her that not all video games were violent and sexual. But to assuage her fears he would personally test all of them before allowing the kids to play.
The plan was approved and, not wanting to repeat his mistake with the paint color, Henry took Katie with him to the store to help pick games that would be popular – but not arouse Henrietta’s ire.
And Henry kept his promise to test the games out first. He was never a big video game player even in his own youth. When he sat down on the new youth group couch and tried to turn on the new game system he began to feel a bit overwhelmed. But after consulting the directions several times he finally got the Goofy Go Cart game started.
And then ten seconds later it ended when he drove his Goofy Go Cart off the digital track. The game was more difficult than the cartoon on the box would suggest.
Clearly that was not enough time to really determine if the game was appropriate for children. He hit the restart button. Thirty minutes later he had played sixty very short games. This wasn’t going well at all.
That night over dinner he asked Katie if she would come to the church on Saturday afternoon and help him test the games. “It should only take an hour or so,” he said. Katie rolled her eyes but agreed. She was secretly kind of anxious to try them out herself.
That Saturday Katie and her father plopped down on the couch. With Katie’s help, Henry found that he quickly got the hang of Goofy Go Carts. In fact, it was actually quite fun. And on only the fourteenth try he actually beat Katie. He looked at his watch. They had been playing two and a half hours.
“Geez, I’ve still got to write my sermon,” Henry said. “We’ll have to zip through the rest of the games.” Katie inserted the next one, Lords of the Hoppennoodle Crystals. That game went along pretty well until Katie and her father had to face the red troll that guarded the caves of Gondorola. They had the troll on the ropes when Pastor O’Donnell’s cell phone rang.
“Should I pause?” Katie asked.
“Let it go to voicemail. We’ve almost got it,” Henry said as he furiously mashed the buttons. But they didn’t almost have it. At the last second the troll defeated them yet again. Henry was about to restart the level when Katie reminded him about the voicemail.
It was Henry’s wife, Jennifer. Henry was startled to discover it was almost 9:00 and they were quite late for dinner. Time had really flown. They saved the game and rushed home. Henry had completely failed to write his sermon. He decided to come in early the next morning to finish it when he wouldn’t be disturbed.
The next morning Henry had made pretty good progress by seven o’clock and decided to take a break. “One game of Lords of the Hoppennoodle Crystals,” he thought. “I bet I can beat that troll this time.”
Henry did beat the troll, though it took more than one try. As he was dancing around the youth group room celebrating, Katie and church secretary Tammy Billings burst through the door. “Told you,” Katie said to Tammy.
“Pastor, church was supposed to start five minutes ago!” Tammy yelled.
He had been playing the game for hours without realizing it. He dropped the controller and followed Tammy down to the Sanctuary. Unfortunately, he didn’t think to pick up the notes for his half written sermon on the way and had to improvise the whole thing live. Fortunately the topic was temptation. He suddenly had a very personal example to talk about.
Later that day Tammy used some of the church’s petty cash to make one last improvement to the youth group room. She bought a new lock for the door. She kept one key and gave one to Katie. She did not, however, give one to Henry.
The following Sunday brought two new teenage boys to the youth group. Katie had told them about the game system and they were excited to try it out. They played for about an hour before heading off to a Little League game but Katie thought they would be back again. As Katie locked up the attic room, she saw her father leaving his office.
Katie hadn’t really enjoyed playing the game with the boys as much as she thought she would. They always insisted on being in charge of the missions. She actually kind of missed playing with her Dad.
“I saw that you beat the troll,” she called down to him.
“Yeah.”
“So should we try to infiltrate the infinity tower now?”
Henry thought about it. He had a whole week to write his next sermon. Why not?
(c) 2008
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. Like many churches, they have difficulty attracting teenagers. Often only three or four teens show up for youth group, usually all girls. And one of those girls is Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s own fifteen year-old daughter Katie who pretty much has to go or risk having her father take a more active interest in her other social activities.
One recent Sunday afternoon, Henry climbed the stairs to the converted attic room above the kitchen where the youth group meets. No wonder they aren’t showing up, he thought as he surveyed the worn couch, stained bean bag chairs and dark, sticker covered walls. Who’d want to come to this shabby place?
At the next trustees meeting the pastor asked for some money to fix up the youth group room. Normally the trustees presumed every spending request was a devious attempt to defraud God Himself, but the one thing that nearly everyone could agree on was the need to bring in more young people. So with surprisingly little debate they approved a few hundred dollars for the project and Henry went shopping.
That much money didn’t go far but Henry did manage to buy a couch, coffee table and several new padded chairs all in dark wood and leather. He also bought a gallon of bright green paint and spent a Saturday painting the stickered walls.
The next day after church Pastor O’Donnell found a reason to putter just below the youth group room as Katie and a couple friends headed up with their snacks from coffee hour. He hadn’t told any of them what he’d done and he wanted to see their reaction and bask in their inevitable gratitude.
“What the hell,” Henry heard Katie say. She stuck her head out of the room and spotted him. “What did you do, Dad?”
“Do you like it?” Henry asked.
“Where are the bean bag chairs?” Katie responded.
“I threw those filthy things out. Do you like the color I chose for the walls? Pretty cheery, huh?” Katie just sighed and rolled her eyes. There seemed to be surprisingly little gratitude for Henry to bask in.
Disappointed at his failure to awe the church teenagers with interior decorating, Henry decided it might be a good idea to ask Katie for her help. “What do you think would attract more kids your age to youth group? I’m particularly interested in boys.”
“So am I,” Katie said.
“Very funny. Besides girls, what do boys your age like?”
“Video games,” Katie said.
Henry sighed. “We can’t buy video games for the church.”
“Why not?” Katie asked.
Henry realized he didn’t actually have a good reason. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. A premium video game system and a nice big TV might just entice a few boys to give church another look.
So he went back to trustees and pitched his idea. It didn’t go over nearly as well as his previous plan. The trustees wanted to know how the new furniture had been received. “They love it,” Henry lied. “But it’s going to take more than a new couch to get teenagers to come to church.” A few of the trustees seemed to recall Henry predicting something quite different at their last meeting.
Henrietta Miggins was especially put off by the new proposal. “I know all about those video games,” she said. Henry highly doubted that Henrietta knew any more about video games than she did about water buffalo digestion. But he knew better than to openly question her expertise on any matter.
“They’re full of sex and violence,” Henrietta continued. “In my day children went to church because we’d get a wuppin’ if we didn’t. If you ask me it’s these parents we have to do something about. Do you see the way they let their children dress these days? Why, if I wore trousers that exposed my underpants my mother would have had me scrubbing windows until midnight…”
Henry zoned out. He’d heard most of this before. When Henrietta finally wound down, he assured her that not all video games were violent and sexual. But to assuage her fears he would personally test all of them before allowing the kids to play.
The plan was approved and, not wanting to repeat his mistake with the paint color, Henry took Katie with him to the store to help pick games that would be popular – but not arouse Henrietta’s ire.
And Henry kept his promise to test the games out first. He was never a big video game player even in his own youth. When he sat down on the new youth group couch and tried to turn on the new game system he began to feel a bit overwhelmed. But after consulting the directions several times he finally got the Goofy Go Cart game started.
And then ten seconds later it ended when he drove his Goofy Go Cart off the digital track. The game was more difficult than the cartoon on the box would suggest.
Clearly that was not enough time to really determine if the game was appropriate for children. He hit the restart button. Thirty minutes later he had played sixty very short games. This wasn’t going well at all.
That night over dinner he asked Katie if she would come to the church on Saturday afternoon and help him test the games. “It should only take an hour or so,” he said. Katie rolled her eyes but agreed. She was secretly kind of anxious to try them out herself.
That Saturday Katie and her father plopped down on the couch. With Katie’s help, Henry found that he quickly got the hang of Goofy Go Carts. In fact, it was actually quite fun. And on only the fourteenth try he actually beat Katie. He looked at his watch. They had been playing two and a half hours.
“Geez, I’ve still got to write my sermon,” Henry said. “We’ll have to zip through the rest of the games.” Katie inserted the next one, Lords of the Hoppennoodle Crystals. That game went along pretty well until Katie and her father had to face the red troll that guarded the caves of Gondorola. They had the troll on the ropes when Pastor O’Donnell’s cell phone rang.
“Should I pause?” Katie asked.
“Let it go to voicemail. We’ve almost got it,” Henry said as he furiously mashed the buttons. But they didn’t almost have it. At the last second the troll defeated them yet again. Henry was about to restart the level when Katie reminded him about the voicemail.
It was Henry’s wife, Jennifer. Henry was startled to discover it was almost 9:00 and they were quite late for dinner. Time had really flown. They saved the game and rushed home. Henry had completely failed to write his sermon. He decided to come in early the next morning to finish it when he wouldn’t be disturbed.
The next morning Henry had made pretty good progress by seven o’clock and decided to take a break. “One game of Lords of the Hoppennoodle Crystals,” he thought. “I bet I can beat that troll this time.”
Henry did beat the troll, though it took more than one try. As he was dancing around the youth group room celebrating, Katie and church secretary Tammy Billings burst through the door. “Told you,” Katie said to Tammy.
“Pastor, church was supposed to start five minutes ago!” Tammy yelled.
He had been playing the game for hours without realizing it. He dropped the controller and followed Tammy down to the Sanctuary. Unfortunately, he didn’t think to pick up the notes for his half written sermon on the way and had to improvise the whole thing live. Fortunately the topic was temptation. He suddenly had a very personal example to talk about.
Later that day Tammy used some of the church’s petty cash to make one last improvement to the youth group room. She bought a new lock for the door. She kept one key and gave one to Katie. She did not, however, give one to Henry.
The following Sunday brought two new teenage boys to the youth group. Katie had told them about the game system and they were excited to try it out. They played for about an hour before heading off to a Little League game but Katie thought they would be back again. As Katie locked up the attic room, she saw her father leaving his office.
Katie hadn’t really enjoyed playing the game with the boys as much as she thought she would. They always insisted on being in charge of the missions. She actually kind of missed playing with her Dad.
“I saw that you beat the troll,” she called down to him.
“Yeah.”
“So should we try to infiltrate the infinity tower now?”
Henry thought about it. He had a whole week to write his next sermon. Why not?
(c) 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
The Apostles Ate Stew
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. And on Easter morning Jill Boyer was desperately trying to stave off thoughts of homicide as she tried to get her family ready for church. On a normal Sunday this was a task that could reduce a Navy SEAL to tears. On this Easter Sunday three additional factors turned it into something rivaling the trials of Hercules.
The first was the need to dress the family in especially fancy clothes or risk raised eyebrows from the older ladies in the church. Jill had two daughters: Mary, who was four, and Susie, who was two. Both had spent the entirety of their young lives perfecting the art of whining. The donning of frilly Easter dresses was an occasion for them to attempt their greatest heights of whinery. However when it came to fancy attire, the winner of the whining trophy was Jill’s husband Kevin. Kevin was no more fond of getting dressed up than the little girls and couldn’t care less about the eyebrow positions of the older church ladies.
The second factor impacting Jill’s Easter morning preparations was Barry the Bunny. Barry was Mary’s Sunday school class pet and Mary had been selected to care of it while the teacher was on a much needed vacation. Mary was delighted by the bunny and took it out of the cage at every opportunity. She discovered just such an opportunity when Jill was preoccupied with trying to convince Kevin that even his best tennis shoes were not appropriate for Easter. Unfortunately this occurred after Jill had shanghaied Mary into her dress. It took almost twenty minutes to clean the paw prints off the white cotton and lace.
But the factor driving Jill to nearly intolerable levels of stress was the fact that her in-laws were coming over for Easter brunch after church. Jill’s relationship with Ron and Carol Boyer was not any worse than the average woman’s relationship with her husband’s parents. But it wasn’t any better, either. What really made things hard on Jill was that Kevin’s mother was a wonderful hostess. She could whip up delicious appetizers or full meals, mix exotic cocktails and maintain charming conversation all without any sign of exertion.
Jill truly wanted to be such a hostess. She watched cable TV shows and subscribed to magazines that promised to impart those skills. But she could never seem to pull it off with her mother-in-law’s grace. Yet she continued to try, hoping one day to live up to the standard Carol Boyer had set.
So in addition to dressing her family and cleaning up bunny paw prints, Jill was managing the early stages of preparation on half a dozen Easter dishes in the kitchen, including the star of the meal: a baked maple glazed ham. The last task of the morning was to put the ham in the oven so it could bake while they were at church and be ready by the time Kevin’s parents arrived.
Jill closed the oven door on the ham and herded the family into the car at 8:52. They arrived only seven minutes late to the 9:00 service - beating their average tardiness by several minutes.
When they returned home two hours later, Kevin, Mary and Susie dashed to their rooms to shed their church outfits. Jill went into the kitchen to take the ham out of the oven. It had turned out beautifully, the maple glaze glistening just like the one in the cook book. Jill set it on a rack to cool.
At that moment the doorbell rang. Ron and Carol had arrived. Jill barely got to greet them before they were dragged off by Mary to see Barry the Bunny. After that, Carol presented the girls with Easter baskets. Much nicer and heavier laden baskets than Jill had made for them, of course. A minor youth rebellion broke out when Jill informed her daughters that they would have to wait until after brunch to dig into the candy. Once the rebellion was quashed, Jill took coffee and tea orders from her guests.
When she entered the kitchen, she forgot all about the beverages, however.
There on the counter was Barry the Bunny. Apparently in the excitement over the Easter baskets, Mary had failed to lock him safely away in his cage. And the rabbit had found the ham, presumably drawn by the maple scent of the glaze at which he was now happily licking. Jill lunged forward to shoo him off before he could do any more damage and startled the poor creature. Barry jumped and in the process knocked the ham off onto the floor.
Tears welled in Jill’s eyes as she picked the ham up. She briefly considered if there was a way to save it but the surface was far too mangled. She could still make ham sandwiches for the girls out of it - they wouldn’t care about rabbit saliva - but she would need to come up with something else as the centerpiece of her brunch. She brushed away her tears. There was too much work to be done to waste time crying.
She did a quick inventory of her refrigerator and pantry. Unfortunately the only thing she had in enough quantity that was suitable for a main course was canned stew.
Jill figured if she was going to serve stew for Easter brunch, she was going to have to be clever about it. Fortunately she had paid attention in church.
After serving soup and a frittata for the first courses of the meal, Jill brought out her big pot, the lid hiding the contents. She noticed Kevin’s look of confusion and before he could say anything about ham, she cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention.
“My family has an Easter tradition,” she said. “According to a story my Grandmother told, on the first Easter morning Mary Magdalene and the other women put the makings of a meal on the fire before going to Jesus’ tomb to anoint his body with spices. This was the meal which the women served to the Apostles upon their return from finding the empty tomb, and this was the meal the Apostles were eating when Jesus appeared to them. That meal was stew.”
And with that Jill removed the lid from the pot.
“It is our family tradition to eat stew on Easter,” Jill continued, “to symbolize the coming together of disparate peoples to form the early Christian church.”
The other adults gathered around the table looked at each other, unsure what to say. Then Mary piped up, “is there onions in it, Mommy?”
“Yes dear,” Jill replied. “You can pick them out.”
Then Jill ladled out bowls of stew to everyone and they ate.
After the meal, Carol graciously offered to help Jill clear the table. Jill was far too exhausted to turn her down. While they were in the kitchen, Carol put a hand on Jill’s arm and said, “You know, I think that whole story about the Apostles eating stew is a bunch of baloney. But the meal was quite good and I’m glad you didn’t serve ham. Everyone serves ham at Easter and I don’t really care for it.”
Carol went out into the living room and for the first time that day Jill relaxed. And from that day forward stew really was a Boyer family Easter tradition.
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. And on Easter morning Jill Boyer was desperately trying to stave off thoughts of homicide as she tried to get her family ready for church. On a normal Sunday this was a task that could reduce a Navy SEAL to tears. On this Easter Sunday three additional factors turned it into something rivaling the trials of Hercules.
The first was the need to dress the family in especially fancy clothes or risk raised eyebrows from the older ladies in the church. Jill had two daughters: Mary, who was four, and Susie, who was two. Both had spent the entirety of their young lives perfecting the art of whining. The donning of frilly Easter dresses was an occasion for them to attempt their greatest heights of whinery. However when it came to fancy attire, the winner of the whining trophy was Jill’s husband Kevin. Kevin was no more fond of getting dressed up than the little girls and couldn’t care less about the eyebrow positions of the older church ladies.
The second factor impacting Jill’s Easter morning preparations was Barry the Bunny. Barry was Mary’s Sunday school class pet and Mary had been selected to care of it while the teacher was on a much needed vacation. Mary was delighted by the bunny and took it out of the cage at every opportunity. She discovered just such an opportunity when Jill was preoccupied with trying to convince Kevin that even his best tennis shoes were not appropriate for Easter. Unfortunately this occurred after Jill had shanghaied Mary into her dress. It took almost twenty minutes to clean the paw prints off the white cotton and lace.
But the factor driving Jill to nearly intolerable levels of stress was the fact that her in-laws were coming over for Easter brunch after church. Jill’s relationship with Ron and Carol Boyer was not any worse than the average woman’s relationship with her husband’s parents. But it wasn’t any better, either. What really made things hard on Jill was that Kevin’s mother was a wonderful hostess. She could whip up delicious appetizers or full meals, mix exotic cocktails and maintain charming conversation all without any sign of exertion.
Jill truly wanted to be such a hostess. She watched cable TV shows and subscribed to magazines that promised to impart those skills. But she could never seem to pull it off with her mother-in-law’s grace. Yet she continued to try, hoping one day to live up to the standard Carol Boyer had set.
So in addition to dressing her family and cleaning up bunny paw prints, Jill was managing the early stages of preparation on half a dozen Easter dishes in the kitchen, including the star of the meal: a baked maple glazed ham. The last task of the morning was to put the ham in the oven so it could bake while they were at church and be ready by the time Kevin’s parents arrived.
Jill closed the oven door on the ham and herded the family into the car at 8:52. They arrived only seven minutes late to the 9:00 service - beating their average tardiness by several minutes.
When they returned home two hours later, Kevin, Mary and Susie dashed to their rooms to shed their church outfits. Jill went into the kitchen to take the ham out of the oven. It had turned out beautifully, the maple glaze glistening just like the one in the cook book. Jill set it on a rack to cool.
At that moment the doorbell rang. Ron and Carol had arrived. Jill barely got to greet them before they were dragged off by Mary to see Barry the Bunny. After that, Carol presented the girls with Easter baskets. Much nicer and heavier laden baskets than Jill had made for them, of course. A minor youth rebellion broke out when Jill informed her daughters that they would have to wait until after brunch to dig into the candy. Once the rebellion was quashed, Jill took coffee and tea orders from her guests.
When she entered the kitchen, she forgot all about the beverages, however.
There on the counter was Barry the Bunny. Apparently in the excitement over the Easter baskets, Mary had failed to lock him safely away in his cage. And the rabbit had found the ham, presumably drawn by the maple scent of the glaze at which he was now happily licking. Jill lunged forward to shoo him off before he could do any more damage and startled the poor creature. Barry jumped and in the process knocked the ham off onto the floor.
Tears welled in Jill’s eyes as she picked the ham up. She briefly considered if there was a way to save it but the surface was far too mangled. She could still make ham sandwiches for the girls out of it - they wouldn’t care about rabbit saliva - but she would need to come up with something else as the centerpiece of her brunch. She brushed away her tears. There was too much work to be done to waste time crying.
She did a quick inventory of her refrigerator and pantry. Unfortunately the only thing she had in enough quantity that was suitable for a main course was canned stew.
Jill figured if she was going to serve stew for Easter brunch, she was going to have to be clever about it. Fortunately she had paid attention in church.
After serving soup and a frittata for the first courses of the meal, Jill brought out her big pot, the lid hiding the contents. She noticed Kevin’s look of confusion and before he could say anything about ham, she cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention.
“My family has an Easter tradition,” she said. “According to a story my Grandmother told, on the first Easter morning Mary Magdalene and the other women put the makings of a meal on the fire before going to Jesus’ tomb to anoint his body with spices. This was the meal which the women served to the Apostles upon their return from finding the empty tomb, and this was the meal the Apostles were eating when Jesus appeared to them. That meal was stew.”
And with that Jill removed the lid from the pot.
“It is our family tradition to eat stew on Easter,” Jill continued, “to symbolize the coming together of disparate peoples to form the early Christian church.”
The other adults gathered around the table looked at each other, unsure what to say. Then Mary piped up, “is there onions in it, Mommy?”
“Yes dear,” Jill replied. “You can pick them out.”
Then Jill ladled out bowls of stew to everyone and they ate.
After the meal, Carol graciously offered to help Jill clear the table. Jill was far too exhausted to turn her down. While they were in the kitchen, Carol put a hand on Jill’s arm and said, “You know, I think that whole story about the Apostles eating stew is a bunch of baloney. But the meal was quite good and I’m glad you didn’t serve ham. Everyone serves ham at Easter and I don’t really care for it.”
Carol went out into the living room and for the first time that day Jill relaxed. And from that day forward stew really was a Boyer family Easter tradition.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Sunrise Service
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. Every year on Easter morning they hold a sunrise service in the courtyard. This year, Easter fell on an unusually early date and happened to coincide with a late winter freeze. When Pastor Henry O’Donnell awoke at 5:00 AM the thermometer outside read a chilly twenty-five degrees.
Henry took a quick, hot shower to wake himself up, then put on a pair of colorful boxers with pictures of Easter eggs and bunnies he’d bought in honor of the holiday. He tried to rouse his wife Jennifer.
“Leave me alone,” Jennifer grumbled at him, her face buried in the pillow.
“But honey, it’s almost time to go to the sunrise service.”
“You go ahead without me.”
“Did you see what I’m wearing?”
Jennifer lifter her head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. He modeled the boxers. “Cute,” she said and pulled the covers over her head. She had not been as amused as he thought she would.
“Come on, get up,” Henry pleaded. “I’ve got a present for you. For Easter.”
“Can it wait ’til later?” she asked.
“I suppose…” Henry said.
“Good. Katie and I will meet you for the 9:00 service.”
Jennifer was still annoyed at Henry for repeatedly violating the diet they had both agreed to go on over Lent. She was even more annoyed that despite his transgressions he’d lost three more pounds than she had. So she was not in the mood to get up early and head out into the cold darkness just to play the part of dutiful pastor’s wife.
Henry arrived at the church at about six, half an hour before the service was scheduled to begin. He found church secretary Tammy Billings already in the office. Tammy had given up coffee for Lent and now that it was Easter she had gotten to church early so she could make a big pot to break her fast. But after nearly six weeks without coffee, the caffeine was having a much greater impact than she was used to. She bounced around the office, vibrating with nervous energy.
“Good morning!” She yelled, then without pausing for a response, continued, “The pathways in the courtyard are really icy so Ralph is putting salt on them and then he’ll need your help to roll the piano out of the lounge for Walter so do you want a cup of coffee before then because I made a whole pot and I‘ve already had two cups.”
“Okay,” said Henry. He could use a little bit of that kind of energy.
“Great!” shouted Tammy. “I’ll get it.”
However, when Tammy was rushing back with Henry’s coffee her caffeine heightened enthusiasm led her to stumble and spill the cup of fresh, hot java all over the back of Henry’s suit pants.
Caught off guard by the sudden scalding of the back of his legs, Henry let out a scream that woke four people and six dogs in the surrounding community.
“I’m so sorry,” Tammy gasped. “Are you alright?”
Henry was in fact not badly burned. It was more the sudden shock that had elicited the yell. After reassuring Tammy that he did not need to be rushed to the emergency room, he went to the bathroom and rinsed out his pants in the sink, shivering in his Easter boxers.
Dressed again, he went to help Tammy’s husband Ralph and Walter Tibble, the organist, roll the battered old upright piano from the lounge out into the courtyard. This particular piano didn’t have the greatest tone but it was a sturdy old instrument that could take the abuse. Moving it into the courtyard was a tricky bit of business on the freshly salted but still icy cement paths. They just managed to get it positioned in time for the first arrivals, Del and Karen Winslow.
As it turned out Del and Karen were not only the first but the last worshipers to arrive for the sunrise service. It seemed most of the congregation was not inclined to attend an outdoor service in below freezing weather. Karen Winslow’s family had always gone to Easter sunrise services when she was a little girl and she determinedly kept the tradition alive out of nostalgia no matter what the weather. Del was simply a tough old guy who didn’t let a little thing like cold stop him from making his wife happy.
So the service started, Del and Karen sitting in the middle of the neatly arranged rows of metal folding chairs Tammy had set out. Pastor O’Donnell led an opening prayer, then Tammy led them in a hymn and Ralph read an extended passage from the bible.
As Ralph was reading, Henry heard a strange rhythmic rumbling coming from over by the piano. He realized the noise was emanating from Walter. Walter was not really a morning person and it seemed he had fallen asleep. As his snores grew louder, Henry and everyone else just tried to politely ignore them.
However, as Walter fell deeper into sleep he began to lean forward. His head came to rest against the piano. The salt still had not completely melted the ice from the cement below and the piano began to slide.
It slid out from under Walter, who fell forward. His forehead struck the piano keys, eliciting a jangled, atonal chord from the instrument and a jangled, atonal yelp from Walter.
The piano kept going. It spun slowly toward the two person congregation. Del and Karen scrambled to get out of its path.
Pastor O’Donnell leapt to his feet to help - and heard a ripping sound behind him.
Unbeknownst to him, his wet slacks had frozen to the folding chair which in turn had frozen to the cement. When Pastor O’Donnell jumped up, long strips of cloth had torn away from each pant leg leaving his Easter boxers and a good amount of his burn-reddened thighs exposed.
Ralph had arrested the progress of the piano before it reached the Winslows. “Disaster averted,” he said. But then Tammy started to laugh. She was the only one who could see what had happened to the Pastor at that point. Henry was flustered and turned in a circle, trying to assess the damage and unintentionally exposing himself to everyone else. Soon they were all cackling uncontrollably.
Henry had never been so grateful to see the sun rise as he was when it finally peaked over the steeple a few minutes later. He plowed through his sermon as fast as he could, his teeth chattering from the icy breeze now blowing up his backside.
Nobody complained about the truncated service. They were all happy to get inside and enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee. Henry, meanwhile, had to run home to change his pants.
When he walked into his kitchen, he discovered Jennifer awake and much more chipper than she had been earlier. She got a good laugh out of Henry’s story of the runaway piano and his frozen pants. Then she asked, “did you say something about a present earlier?”
Henry took her out to the garage and presented her with two bicycles. “I thought maybe when the weather got better we could start riding bikes. You know, to get some exercise and spend more time together.”
Jennifer was delighted. She gave Henry a big hug. Henry beamed knowing that he was finally out of the dog house for his recent dietary slips. And he had already planned the route of their first ride. One that would coincidentally take them right by Norm’s Normal Burger stand.
It was turning out not to be such a bad Easter after all for Pastor O’Donnell.
(c) 2008 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. Every year on Easter morning they hold a sunrise service in the courtyard. This year, Easter fell on an unusually early date and happened to coincide with a late winter freeze. When Pastor Henry O’Donnell awoke at 5:00 AM the thermometer outside read a chilly twenty-five degrees.
Henry took a quick, hot shower to wake himself up, then put on a pair of colorful boxers with pictures of Easter eggs and bunnies he’d bought in honor of the holiday. He tried to rouse his wife Jennifer.
“Leave me alone,” Jennifer grumbled at him, her face buried in the pillow.
“But honey, it’s almost time to go to the sunrise service.”
“You go ahead without me.”
“Did you see what I’m wearing?”
Jennifer lifter her head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. He modeled the boxers. “Cute,” she said and pulled the covers over her head. She had not been as amused as he thought she would.
“Come on, get up,” Henry pleaded. “I’ve got a present for you. For Easter.”
“Can it wait ’til later?” she asked.
“I suppose…” Henry said.
“Good. Katie and I will meet you for the 9:00 service.”
Jennifer was still annoyed at Henry for repeatedly violating the diet they had both agreed to go on over Lent. She was even more annoyed that despite his transgressions he’d lost three more pounds than she had. So she was not in the mood to get up early and head out into the cold darkness just to play the part of dutiful pastor’s wife.
Henry arrived at the church at about six, half an hour before the service was scheduled to begin. He found church secretary Tammy Billings already in the office. Tammy had given up coffee for Lent and now that it was Easter she had gotten to church early so she could make a big pot to break her fast. But after nearly six weeks without coffee, the caffeine was having a much greater impact than she was used to. She bounced around the office, vibrating with nervous energy.
“Good morning!” She yelled, then without pausing for a response, continued, “The pathways in the courtyard are really icy so Ralph is putting salt on them and then he’ll need your help to roll the piano out of the lounge for Walter so do you want a cup of coffee before then because I made a whole pot and I‘ve already had two cups.”
“Okay,” said Henry. He could use a little bit of that kind of energy.
“Great!” shouted Tammy. “I’ll get it.”
However, when Tammy was rushing back with Henry’s coffee her caffeine heightened enthusiasm led her to stumble and spill the cup of fresh, hot java all over the back of Henry’s suit pants.
Caught off guard by the sudden scalding of the back of his legs, Henry let out a scream that woke four people and six dogs in the surrounding community.
“I’m so sorry,” Tammy gasped. “Are you alright?”
Henry was in fact not badly burned. It was more the sudden shock that had elicited the yell. After reassuring Tammy that he did not need to be rushed to the emergency room, he went to the bathroom and rinsed out his pants in the sink, shivering in his Easter boxers.
Dressed again, he went to help Tammy’s husband Ralph and Walter Tibble, the organist, roll the battered old upright piano from the lounge out into the courtyard. This particular piano didn’t have the greatest tone but it was a sturdy old instrument that could take the abuse. Moving it into the courtyard was a tricky bit of business on the freshly salted but still icy cement paths. They just managed to get it positioned in time for the first arrivals, Del and Karen Winslow.
As it turned out Del and Karen were not only the first but the last worshipers to arrive for the sunrise service. It seemed most of the congregation was not inclined to attend an outdoor service in below freezing weather. Karen Winslow’s family had always gone to Easter sunrise services when she was a little girl and she determinedly kept the tradition alive out of nostalgia no matter what the weather. Del was simply a tough old guy who didn’t let a little thing like cold stop him from making his wife happy.
So the service started, Del and Karen sitting in the middle of the neatly arranged rows of metal folding chairs Tammy had set out. Pastor O’Donnell led an opening prayer, then Tammy led them in a hymn and Ralph read an extended passage from the bible.
As Ralph was reading, Henry heard a strange rhythmic rumbling coming from over by the piano. He realized the noise was emanating from Walter. Walter was not really a morning person and it seemed he had fallen asleep. As his snores grew louder, Henry and everyone else just tried to politely ignore them.
However, as Walter fell deeper into sleep he began to lean forward. His head came to rest against the piano. The salt still had not completely melted the ice from the cement below and the piano began to slide.
It slid out from under Walter, who fell forward. His forehead struck the piano keys, eliciting a jangled, atonal chord from the instrument and a jangled, atonal yelp from Walter.
The piano kept going. It spun slowly toward the two person congregation. Del and Karen scrambled to get out of its path.
Pastor O’Donnell leapt to his feet to help - and heard a ripping sound behind him.
Unbeknownst to him, his wet slacks had frozen to the folding chair which in turn had frozen to the cement. When Pastor O’Donnell jumped up, long strips of cloth had torn away from each pant leg leaving his Easter boxers and a good amount of his burn-reddened thighs exposed.
Ralph had arrested the progress of the piano before it reached the Winslows. “Disaster averted,” he said. But then Tammy started to laugh. She was the only one who could see what had happened to the Pastor at that point. Henry was flustered and turned in a circle, trying to assess the damage and unintentionally exposing himself to everyone else. Soon they were all cackling uncontrollably.
Henry had never been so grateful to see the sun rise as he was when it finally peaked over the steeple a few minutes later. He plowed through his sermon as fast as he could, his teeth chattering from the icy breeze now blowing up his backside.
Nobody complained about the truncated service. They were all happy to get inside and enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee. Henry, meanwhile, had to run home to change his pants.
When he walked into his kitchen, he discovered Jennifer awake and much more chipper than she had been earlier. She got a good laugh out of Henry’s story of the runaway piano and his frozen pants. Then she asked, “did you say something about a present earlier?”
Henry took her out to the garage and presented her with two bicycles. “I thought maybe when the weather got better we could start riding bikes. You know, to get some exercise and spend more time together.”
Jennifer was delighted. She gave Henry a big hug. Henry beamed knowing that he was finally out of the dog house for his recent dietary slips. And he had already planned the route of their first ride. One that would coincidentally take them right by Norm’s Normal Burger stand.
It was turning out not to be such a bad Easter after all for Pastor O’Donnell.
(c) 2008 Douglas J. Eboch
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
