The Sweetheart Dance - Part I

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.  During coffee hour on the first Sunday in February, Kevin and Jill Boyer asked Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s fifteen-year-old daughter Katie if she would babysit for them on Valentine’s Day.  Unfortunately, Katie already had plans to go out with her boyfriend, Alex.

In a small town like Normal, Valentine’s Day was a perfect babysitting storm.  Everyone with kids needed one and most of the older teens wanted to go out on dates themselves.  Kevin and Jill compared notes with some of the other young parents at the church.  Audra Park, a single mother who had just started dating the choir director, Shane Reed, hadn’t found a babysitter for her six-year-old son Tyler either.

Carrie and Carlos Lopez smiled sympathetically.  They knew who they were going to have watch their baby – Carrie’s mother, Karen Winslow, who also happened to be a Sunday school teacher at the church.

“I wonder if your mother would be willing to babysit all the children,” Audra mused.  Kevin and Jill immediately perked up.

“I don’t know,” Carrie said.  “I mean, she might if it were for a church event or something, but otherwise…”

“Maybe it could be a church event,” Kevin suggested.  “Maybe the church should hold a Valentine’s Day dance.”  Kevin was finding it as difficult to get a dinner reservation as it was to get a babysitter and this sounded like killing two birds with one stone.  Carrie and Carlos agreed it was a good idea.  They had moved in with Carrie’s parents, Karen and Del, after the company they worked for went bankrupt.  A church dance would be a nice yet economical date.

It was kind of last minute to put something like that together, of course, but when they proposed it to Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell he was surprisingly enthusiastic.  It turned out he was having trouble getting dinner reservations as well.

Henry rushed over to twenty-eight-year-old Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum and her boyfriend, Ian Wells, who was a jazz guitarist.  “We’re thinking about having a Valentine’s Day dance,” Henry said.  “Ian, do you think your band would like to perform?  We could pay you, say, $200.”

“Absolutely!” Ian replied.  His band usually played in clubs for free drinks.

Michelle frowned.  This was the first time since college that she had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day and she was kind of hoping for a romantic evening alone with Ian.  Spending it at the church felt a little too much like work.  She didn’t want to come off as selfish, though, so she tried to be subtle.  “Won’t that mess up the plans you made for us?” she asked, hoping Ian had actually made some plans.

“Nah,” Ian said.  “I was only able to get an early reservation at the restaurant anyway.  We’ll have plenty of time to eat before the dance.”

“It’s settled then,” Henry declared.

“Great,” Michelle sighed.

The first major wrinkle in the plan came when Henry talked to Karen about handling childcare.  “Absolutely not,” Karen said.  It turned out Carrie and Carlos had just assumed she would babysit for them.  They’d never actually asked her.  “Del and I are going out to dinner,” Karen sniffed.  “He made the reservations a month ago.”  Henry decided Del could be pretty annoying sometimes.

The organizers were in a bind.  The childcare was a key reason for the event in the first place.  Without it, many of them wouldn’t be able to attend.  It was looking like they would need a miracle to save the dance.

And then Katie’s boyfriend dumped her. 

It was all Henry could do not to jump for joy.  Alex was two years older than Katie, and Henry had never approved of their relationship.  He forced himself to wait a decent amount of time before broaching the subject of childcare at the church dance.  He figured half an hour was a suitable mourning period for a teenage romance.

Henry obviously didn’t know much about teenage romances.  Katie burst into tears when he proposed she spend Valentine’s Day watching little kids.  Henry, never particularly skilled at handling crying females, quickly offered to pay her double her regular babysitting rate.  Katie stopped crying.  There was a pair of shoes she really wanted and the gig would just about cover them.  She agreed.

The dance was on.

Valentine’s Day evening started out pretty good for Michelle.  Ian gave her an appropriately lascivious compliment on the sheer white dress she wore.  The restaurant he’d chosen was quite romantic, though the candlelight might have had more impact if the sun wasn’t still shining in around the curtains while they ate.

After they’d finished a juicy prime rib for two, the waiter asked if they’d like to see the desert cart.  He mentioned a special Valentine’s chocolate fudge cake and assured them it was quite decadent.

“We better not,” Ian said.  “I’ve got to get over to the church to set up for the show.”

Michelle looked at her watch.  It wasn’t even seven and it looked like the Valentine’s Day romance was over.  She’d spend the rest of the evening sitting alone watching Ian perform on stage.  And she wouldn’t even have the aftertaste of chocolate fudge cake to tide her over.  She sighed.

Little did she know her evening was destined to get better.  Of course it was also destined to get a lot worse, first.

To be continued…

Stung

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 morning church secretary Tammy Billings informed Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell that Abigail Leary had passed away.  This was sad news, of course, but Abbie was ninety-seven and had been a shut-in since before Henry had become pastor, so it wasn’t exactly unexpected.  Henry had visited Abbie regularly, as he did all shut-ins who were members of the congregation, but many people at the church had never even met her.

A couple days after Henry delivered a touching message at Abbie’s memorial service, Tammy brought him more news.  “Abbie left her car to the church in her will.”

“Just the car,” Henry asked, without looking up from his newspaper.  “No cash?”

“Afraid not,” Tammy said.  “I’ll call the donation service.”  The church had no use for an old car, so when one was donated the standard procedure was to sell it to a company that auctioned them on behalf of charitable organizations.

“What kind of car is it?” Henry asked.

“1974 Corvette Stingray.”

Henry dropped the newspaper.  When he was in high school he’d loved the Corvette Stingray more than the girl in his English class who had developed early.  But the car was too expensive for him to buy on the money he earned from his part-time fast food job, so, like the girl, he had to simply admire it from afar.  And by the time his income was sufficient, he was married with a little baby and needed something more practical – or at least that’s what his wife Jennifer told him when he suggested they buy a Stingray. 

“Hold on,” he told Tammy.  “Find out what the donation service will pay for it, but don’t sell it to them just yet.”

It turned out, for a Stingray in the condition of Abbie Leary’s, the donation service would only pay $1,000.  Abbie had stopped driving altogether when the car’s carburetor failed.  She’d kept meaning to sell it but never got around to it.  And two decades sitting in a garage without maintenance hadn’t done the vehicle any favors.

So Henry decided to buy the car from the church himself.  Jennifer was not pleased when he informed her of this over dinner.  “What are you going to do with an old car that doesn’t run,” Jennifer asked.

“I’ll fix it up,” Henry said.  “My Dad and I fixed up an old Ford when I was a teenager.  That was my first car and I loved it, though it wasn’t anywhere near as cool as a Stingray.  Katie can help me and then it can be her car when she gets her license.”

Katie was Henry and Jennifer’s fifteen-year-old daughter.  She looked up from her plate and moaned, “I don’t want some lame old junker car!”

“Do you even know what a Corvette Stingray is?” Henry asked.

“Is it, like, one of those cars you have to turn a crank on the front to start?” Katie asked.

“No, it’s not,” Henry replied.  “When you see it I think you’ll change your mind.”

But when Katie saw it she did not change her mind.  This had more to do with the car’s condition than the design.  After Henry had the Stingray towed to his house, he and Katie stood and looked at the dusty vehicle, it’s tires flat, it’s leather seats cracked, and it’s paint damaged by sun exposure.  “It’s a piece of junk,” Katie said.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get it cleaned up and running in no time,” Henry replied confidently.

Katie’s enthusiasm for working on the car was minimal at first and completely gone after about half an hour.  The biggest problem was the grease and dust.  Katie did not like to get dirty.  As the weeks went by Henry had to resort to ever-greater threats and cajoling to convince her to join him in the weekend repair sessions, and even then she mostly just handed him tools as he requested them.  And usually they were the wrong tools.

Henry struggled to maintain his own enthusiasm for the project.  He hadn’t done serious work on an automobile since that time in high school with his father, and some of the repairs required were more complex than he had anticipated.  Moreover, parts for a ’74 Stingray turned out to be pretty expensive.  Two months after the initial purchase he’d put several thousand dollars and quite a few weekend hours into the car and it still didn’t run. He was about ready to give up and sell it to the donation service, taking a loss on the money he’d spent.

And then a small miracle happened.

One Saturday morning Katie asked if they could work on the car that afternoon.  Henry wondered allowed what had caused the change of heart.

“I told Alex about it and he wants to come see it.  I guess he likes those old manta rays.”

“Stingray,” Henry corrected her with a frown.  Alex was Katie’s new boyfriend.  He was two years older than her and Henry did not really approve of the relationship.  Jennifer had convinced him that voicing the disapproval would only make Katie more determined to go out with the boy, so whenever Alex’s name came up, Henry bit his tongue and kept his mouth shut.  Still, if the kid got Katie interested in working on the car, maybe there would be some upside to Henry’s sore tongue.

Alex came over after lunch.  Henry put on his best stern father look as he shook the kid’s hand.  “How you doin’, Mister O?” Alex asked.

“You can call me Pastor O’Donnell,” Henry said.

“Daaaaad,” Katie moaned in embarrassment.

Alex seemed not to notice.  His eyes were fixed on the car.  “Awesome Stingray!” he said.  “It’s got the four speed transmission and T-top.  Nice.  You putting in the Holley carb?”

“Yeah,” Henry said, warming up to the kid slightly.  “Take a look.”  They popped the hood.

For the next four hours Henry and Alex were buried under that hood while Katie sat on the curb and texted with her friends.  At one point she suggested to Alex that maybe they should go see a movie, but he was too engrossed in the car.  She didn’t push him.  Dating a senior had made her super popular among her friends.

Alex turned out to be pretty handy around an engine.  Far handier than Henry, as a matter of fact, though Henry would not have admitted it to save his life.  As the sun settled on the horizon, they finished the last of the repairs and Henry slid behind the wheel to try the ignition.

He turned the key and the engine sputtered to life with a cough of blue smoke.  It struggled for a moment, then let loose a guttural growl.  Henry and Alex whooped with excitement and shared a high five.  Henry looked over at Katie.  She was obliviously tapping away on her phone.

“Katie, go get your mother,” Henry shouted over the engine.

“Why?” Katie asked without looking up.

“So she can watch us take your new car for its first spin around the block.”

Katie retrieved Jennifer from inside.  Jennifer was not any more enthusiastic about the impending test drive than Katie, but they both humored their men.  Henry and Katie climbed in the car, Henry behind the wheel since Katie didn’t yet know how to drive a stick shift.  Alex looked a little disappointed he wasn’t invited on the maiden voyage, but he didn’t say anything.

Henry eased the car out of the driveway and down the street.  The engine knocked and pinged a few times but it ran.  However, when they reached the end of the block and he pressed down on the brake, nothing happened.

The car shot through the stop sign.  Katie screamed, though there was no other traffic and they were only going about twenty miles an hour.  Henry kept his cool, shifted into neutral and applied the emergency brake.  He veered to the side of the road and brought the car to a stop against the curb with a painful scraping sound.

Alex and Jennifer ran down the street.  “What happened?” Alex asked.

“All the brake fluid must have leaked out,” Henry said.

“I am never getting in that car again,” Katie cried.

“We can fix the brakes,” Henry assured her.

“She is never getting in that car again,” Jennifer cried.

In the end they were all correct.  Henry and Alex fixed the brakes but Katie never did get in the Stingray again.  After a day tooling around town, Henry sold the car to a collector from Ohio and donated all of the profit to the church in Abbie Leary’s name.  Alex wanted to buy the Stingray but he was limited by the lack of income from his part-time fast food job.

For her sixteenth birthday Katie got a used Volkswagen Rabbit.  She was delighted.  Henry rolled his eyes as she jumped up and down around the car.  The girl had no sense of cool.

Hearing Better

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. Recently, the church got an assisted listening system for the hearing impaired.

This was a great development for eighty-six year-old Donald East, whose hearing had deteriorated to the point that Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s deep, soothing voice sounded more like an idling tractor engine than human speech. Because of this, Donald frequently fell asleep during the pastor’s sermons. When Donald slept, he snored. And since most of those who sat near him found Donald’s snoring to be less pleasant than Pastor O’Donnell’s homilies, they were also heartened by the new system.

On the Sunday that the assisted listening system was introduced, head usher Ralph Billings clipped one of the radio units to Donald’s belt and helped him insert the little earphone into his ear. The radio unit picked up a broadcast of everything that went through the speaker system and allowed Donald to control the volume of his individual unit to meet his needs.

Donald was delighted. He heard the choir fine and clear. They were more talented than he remembered. He could hear the announcements – which was a good thing because he learned of an upcoming pancake breakfast hosted by the men’s group. Donald loved pancakes. And of course he could finally hear the content of Pastor O’Donnell’s sermon. Though he still fell asleep half way through it.

As Donald was leaving the sanctuary to go over to coffee hour, he was distracted by the sight of seventy-five year-old Betsy Davis wearing a sleek cardigan. Donald thought Betsy was hot. And he’d become so used to the earphone that he forgot he had the assisted listening unit on and walked right out without returning it.

Meanwhile, Pastor O’Donnell forgot that he was supposed to power off the transmitter after service. Not only was it an unfamiliar task, but he was preoccupied by a parental concern. His daughter, Katie, had been invited to the senior prom. This would have been fantastic if Katie had been a senior, but she was only a sophomore and Henry was not sure he liked the idea of her dating a boy two years older than her. And he was definitely concerned about what might go on at prom. He would prefer to put off thinking about that topic for another couple years. In any case, the new assisted listening system was not foremost in his mind.

After enjoying a cookie and cup of coffee, Donald found he needed to visit the restroom. Donald’s restroom visits took a while these days and by the time he came out, most everyone had left. As he grabbed one last cookie, he waved to Missy Moore and choir director Shane Reed, who were heading into the sanctuary to rehearse a special music selection for the following week.

Missy was going to sing while Shane accompanied her on guitar. Missy wanted to do a full dress rehearsal so she set up a microphone while Shane tuned his instrument. “Are you ready?” Missy asked.

Out in the social hall, Donald heard Missy’s voice broadcast through the assisted listening system. But he didn’t realize that’s where it was coming from. He looked around the empty room. “Ready for what?” he asked nervously.

Shane wasn’t speaking into a mic, so Donald didn’t hear his reply. Instead, he heard Missy say, “Do you think I should introduce it or just launch right in?”

“Introduce what?” Donald asked, beginning to feel desperate. “Who’s there?”

And then Missy started her song: Lord of the Dance.

Donald stumbled back in shock. The angelic voice that was coming from nowhere seemed to be claiming it was the Lord.

About that time Betsy returned to the social hall to retrieve her cardigan, which she’d left behind. Donald rushed over. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

Betsy eyed him uneasily. The old guy looked kind of crazed. “Hear what?”

In the sanctuary, Missy and Shane paused in their rehearsal. The music in Donald’s headphone went suddenly silent. The next thing he heard was Missy responding to some question Shane had asked: “I don’t like that,” she said.

Donald thought maybe God was unhappy he was talking to Betsy. “Oh, it’s gone now,” Donald lied.

“Okay,” Betsy said with a smile and patted him on the arm. Then she hurried out to her car.

The voice started singing Lord of the Dance again. Donald was familiar with the song, but now he listened carefully to the lyrics. He wondered if maybe God wanted him to dance. Donald hadn’t danced since his wife had passed away, and truthfully probably hadn’t even danced for a decade before that. Donald didn’t particularly like to dance, but who was he to deny God?

He started to do a little box step with an imaginary partner.

About a minute later the music stopped. The voice in his ear said, “Let’s pick up the pace.” Then it started singing again at a faster tempo. Donald wondered if God appreciated what this exertion was doing to his eighty-six year-old heart. But he danced.

Katie O’Donnell happened to pass by the door of the social hall just then on the way to her dad’s office. She observed Old Man East hopping crazily about in the quiet room by himself. When she reached the office she said, “Dad, I think Mr. East is having a stroke.”

Henry rushed out. He was relieved to discover the stroke was really just Donald’s herky-jerky attempt at dancing. He was less relieved when Donald started babbling something about God speaking to him.

“You mean you hear Him right now?” Henry asked.

“Yes, except it turns out God is a woman. She told me to dance by singing that hymn, Lord of the Dance. And now she just told me She wants everyone to be tapping their toes along with Her.”

“Dad,” Katie said, “I think it’s a sign!”

Henry thought it was more likely that Katie had been right with her first guess of a stroke. But he asked, “A sign of what?”

“That you should let me go to the prom.”

Henry really had his doubts about that interpretation. But he looked at Katie’s eager face and found his will to deny her was crumbling. “Okay,” he said, “you can go to the prom.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Katie squealed and hugged him. Then she looked back at Donald. “Mr. East, you forgot to return that new radio thingy.”

Donald pulled the earphone out of his ear. It suddenly became clear to him what had happened. He flushed crimson.

As Katie ran off to call her date and tell him she could accept his invitation, Donald and the pastor looked at each other sheepishly. “I guess it wasn’t a message from God after all,” Donald said.

“I don’t know,” Henry replied. “Did you see how happy Katie looked?”

The following week Betsy invited Donald to a dance at the senior center. She’d seen him dancing through the windows as she got in her car the week before. Turns out the old dude had moves.

Resolutions

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 for the last six years, Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell has made a New Year’s resolution to lose ten pounds.  But he’s ended every one of those six years heavier than he began it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” Tammy asked.

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

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

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

“Thanks so much,” Michelle said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doing your exercises?” Tammy asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Un-Decorating

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” Tammy gasped.

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

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

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

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

Scott's First Christmas

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.  Carrie Winslow and her husband Carlos Lopez moved in with Carrie’s parents, church members Del and Karen Winslow, a year and a half ago when the company they worked for went under.  In that time, Carrie gave birth to her first child, Scott. 

In early December, Carrie and Carlos sat Del and Karen down to deliver some big news.  They were planning to go to Carlos’s parents’ house in Cincinnati for Scott’s first Christmas.  The other set of grandparents was eager to get a little time with the lad. 

Karen went pale at this announcement.  It would be the first time Carrie had not spent Christmas with her parents since she was born.  Taking Scott away as well just added salt to the wound.  Carlos…well, Karen liked Carlos but he wasn’t quite in the same league as her daughter and grandson.  Karen put on a brave smile, but the tear that ran down her cheek gave her away.

Carrie saw her mom’s face and quickly assured her they would all partake in every Christmas activity Normal had to offer until time for the young family to depart.  And she was true to her word.  She posted a special holiday calendar on the fridge to keep track of all the once-in-a-lifetime family Christmas events.  

The truth was Carrie’s plan to fill the month with holiday activities was not just for Karen’s benefit.  Carrie wanted Scott’s first Christmas to be perfect.  She had some deep-seated fear that somehow he would miss out on a defining holiday experience that would haunt him for life. However, at ten months old, Scott did not always grasp what all the fuss was about.

So Del and Karen went along when Carrie and Carlos took Scott to the mall to sit on Santa’s lap.  Scott cried the entire time.

And Del and Karen went along when Carrie and Carlos took Scott to a local farm that was offering Christmas hayrides.  Scott spent the ride trying to eat the hay.

Del and Karen also went along when Carrie and Carlos took Scott on a drive to see Christmas decorations.  Scott never looked out the window, absorbed as he was by a talking teddy bear.

Then Carrie and Carlos purchased a seven-foot tall Christmas tree that they decorated with Del and Karen in the living room on a Saturday afternoon.  Scott slept through the whole activity.

Karen dutifully recorded each of these events with her digital camera.  Among the thousand or so pictures she took, she managed to find a dozen where it appeared that Scott was actually in the Christmas spirit.  Those were printed and added to his baby book.

Carrie, Carlos and Scott were scheduled to leave three days before Christmas.  Two days before their departure, Karen set a couple of presents under the tree for Scott.  She sighed and looked at Carrie.  “I guess we won’t get to see him open these.  Take pictures for us.”

“I have an idea,” Carrie said.  “Why don’t we have our Christmas morning right before we leave.  Scott can open his presents from you and Dad then so you won’t miss out.  He can open some of ours, too…we bought him over a dozen things.  There’ll still be plenty of gifts for him to open in Cincinnati.”

So bright and early on December 22nd Del and Karen and Carrie and Carlos and Scott gathered around the Christmas tree to open presents.  For Karen and Carrie it was a bittersweet experience.  Del mostly struggled to stay awake.  The intense schedule of activities had worn him out.  Scott seemed to have a good time opening the gifts, though he was more interested in the wrapping paper than the contents.  And then Carrie and Carlos and Scott left for Cincinnati.

On Christmas Day Del and Karen woke up a bit after nine.  “It’s been a long time since we got to sleep in this late,” Del noted.

“Not since Scott was born,” Karen said with a sigh.

They ate breakfast and opened their gifts to each other.  About that time, Carrie and Carlos called from Cincinnati.  Karen did an admirable job of feigning cheerfulness.

Del may not have been the most sensitive guy in the world but he’d been married to Karen a long time and knew how she was really feeling.  When they hung up he offered to go make her some hot chocolate.  It seemed to help.

About midmorning Karen went into the kitchen to make their traditional Christmas feast of standing rib roast and rhubarb pie.  It was more than the two of them really needed, but both felt the custom especially important this year.  When it was ready she asked Del to set the table.

“Use the good china,” she said.

“Huh,” Del said.  “Another thing we haven’t done since Scott was born.  While we’re at it, maybe we should open a bottle of red wine.”

That elicited the first real smile from Karen all day.

During the meal they found themselves talking about literature and current events.  By the time they finished their pie, Del could tell Karen was actually beginning to appreciate a day with just the two of them, even if it was Christmas.

Then a jazzy song came on the radio.  “Would you like to dance?” Del asked.

“Really?” Karen said.

“There’s nobody to stop us.”  Del stood and extended his hand.  Karen took it and they danced, Del spinning and dipping her through three songs.  She laughed so hard she cried.

“Enough,” she finally gasped.  “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“You look plenty young to me,” Del said with a lascivious wink.  “Why don’t you rest up while I clear the table.”

Del was loading the dishwasher when Karen called to him from the family room where the computer was.  “Carrie emailed photos of Scott opening his presents this morning.”

Del peeked in and saw Karen’s wet eyes as she clicked through the pictures.

“Someone needs to teach Carlos’s parents how to use a camera,” she muttered.   “These are terrible.”

Oh well, Del thought.  Grown up Christmas was good while it lasted.

---

Don’t forget to order your copy of The Christmas Tree Lot and Other Holiday Tales from the Little Church Stories.  Get a discount code at www.douglasjeboch.com/LCS.htm

The Boyers Buy A Tree

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

(Hear the story read by the author.)

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

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

“Apparently,” O’Donnell mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

Certainly not Pastor O’Donnell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kevin moaned.

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

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

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

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


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