The Little Church Stories

Hear the story read by the author.In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. A few months ago, the church served as the location for a short film shoot. The film, “Old, New, Undead, Blue,” was the story of zombies attacking a wedding. It was written and directed by fifteen-year-old Tabitha Dunkleman. Her best friend, Katie O'Donnell, starred as the bride. Katie's father, Henry O'Donnell, happened to be senior pastor of the church, which was how they'd gotten permission to film there. Several other congregants were also involved the production, so Pastor O'Donnell offered to hold the movie's premiere at the church as well. In truth, he was terribly proud of Katie. Though he might not have been so enthusiastic if he'd actually seen the film. Tabitha had gotten more than just footage out of the shoot. Ben, a boy from school who made the props and did the zombie make-up, had kissed her after they'd wrapped. Tabitha had never had a boyfriend before, and she wasn't actually sure if that's what Ben was. She invited him to help her with the editing, hoping to find out. Katie came over to help as well, but quickly became bored and spent most of the time texting her boyfriend, Alex. When she wasn't texting Alex she was talking about how great their relationship was. That made Tabitha a little uncomfortable since she was so unsure of her own relationship status with Ben. The three of them met every night that first week, Tabitha and Ben editing while Katie fiddled with her phone and talked about her boyfriend. But when Katie found out Tabitha intended to create the film's score on Friday evening, she moaned and said, “I'm supposed to go bowling with Alex.” “I'm free,” Ben said. “You're always free,” Katie snapped. She didn't particularly like Ben. “Friday night is date night. You know what they say about all work and no play.” “Go on your date,” Tabitha said. “Ben and I can do the score by ourselves.” Frankly, she was a little relieved not to have Katie around as a distraction. Katie called Tabitha Saturday afternoon. Tabitha was in the middle of color timing a shot to make the zombies look more bloodless and was only half listening as Katie told her about her date. Then Katie said, “You know Alex is on the school newspaper. He suggested he could write an article about the film and the premiere.” That got Tabitha's attention. “That would be awesome! Tell him I'll email him some thoughts to make his job easier.” Tabitha was not impressed with Alex's writing skills and didn't want to leave the content of the article to chance. “Cool,” Katie said. “Hey, do you need me tonight?” “Not at all,” Tabitha replied. “You go out and have fun with Alex.” Despite not having Katie as a distraction, the pace of the postproduction work did not pick up appreciably. Now that Tabitha and Ben were alone every night, the editing sessions often devolved into make-out sessions. Fortunately, Ben had an 11 p.m. curfew, so Tabitha was able to work uninterrupted after that. When 10:45 came on the Thursday two nights before the premiere, Tabitha gently suggested maybe Ben should stay home the following night. “I've still got a ton of things to do before the premiere and I think I'll work faster alone.” Ben smiled as he rubbed lip balm on his chapped lips. “Okay. See you Saturday.” Tabitha turned her attention to mocking up a poster for the movie that featured Katie screaming as mottled grey arms reached out toward her. A little before midnight Tabitha's phone buzzed. The caller ID indicated it was Katie. Tabitha let it go to voicemail. She just had too much work to do. The school newspaper came out every Friday morning, and Tabitha rushed to get a copy as soon as she arrived on campus. She went through it three times looking for Alex's article but couldn't find it. Tabitha found Katie at her locker. “Where's the article?” Tabitha asked. “I guess Alex decided not to run it,” Katie said. “What?!” Tabitha exploded. Her lack of sleep had made her more emotional than normal. “The premiere is tomorrow! This was the last chance to get the word out!” “Oh who cares,” Katie cried. “It's just a stupid movie.” She slammed the locker door and stormed off. Tabitha watched her go, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. A stupid movie? Did Katie not understand what this meant to Tabitha? Perhaps it had started as just a fun hobby, but the more Tabitha worked on it, the more she became convinced that she had found her calling. She was going to be a filmmaker. And this was her big debut. If it went badly, her career might be over before it started. Tabitha spent the rest of the day fuming over Katie's betrayal. Except for the fifty minutes of social studies class. She slept through that. Tabitha was still fuming that night. She had intended to spend the evening redoing the sound effect of a zombie bridesmaid munching on a groomsmen's leg. It didn't have the level crunchiness that she wanted. But if Katie thought this was only a “stupid movie,” she didn't deserve to be the center of the poster. So Tabitha mocked up a new one that featured a four-year-old zombie, played by Sierra Smith, grinning happily in a pew. Pastor O'Donnell spent Saturday afternoon preparing the social hall for the premiere. He'd rented a digital projector and screen and set out a hundred folding chairs. He'd even created a red carpet out of butcher paper. If Tabitha had feared nobody would show up for the premiere, she had worried needlessly. Movie premieres were a rare event in Normal, even premieres of short films made by teenagers. And Pastor O'Donnell had encouraged the church's entire congregation to attend. A huge crowd filled the social hall. Meanwhile, the cast and crew gathered in the church office. Tabitha sat with Ben on one side of the room, while Katie sat on the other side, focused intently on her phone. When Sierra came in, she immediately ran to Tabitha. “My mommy got a reporter from the newspaper to come,” the four-year-old said excitedly. “The real newspaper?” Tabitha asked. “The Normal Chronicle,” Sierra's father replied. “We're friends with the movie reviewer.” “Wow, thanks so much!” Tabitha said. Then added loudly, “It's nice to have such great support from the cast.” She glanced toward Katie who was texting and gave no sign of having heard. Pastor O'Donnell stuck his head in. “It's time.” The cast and crew walked the makeshift red carpet one at a time to revel in the applause and camera flashes from friends and family. Sierra sent the photographers into a frenzy of delight when she did her zombie face. Finally only Katie and Tabitha were left in the office. They eyed each other with malevolent expectation. “Go ahead,” Tabitha snapped. “People are waiting.” “I'm the star,” Katie said. “I should go last.” “It's my film,” Tabitha replied. “I'm going last.” “Fine.” Katie stomped out. Tabitha was startled to see Katie swipe a tear from her eye as she left. Suddenly Tabitha regretted giving Katie such a hard time. After all, her father had done a magnificent job with the premiere. A huge cheer went up when Tabitha made her entrance. She tried to look dignified and serious, but her mouth insisted on curling into a silly grin. She'd never had a crowd cheer for her before. The pastor had reserved the front row for the cast and crew. Ben was saving Tabitha a seat in the center. Katie sat on the end by herself. And that was when it occurred to Tabitha that Alex wasn't present. “Did Alex sit in back?” Tabitha whispered to Ben as she took her seat. “Katie didn't tell you?” Ben asked. “It's been all over school. He dumped her.” Tabitha was so stunned she simply stared at Ben, speechless. And then the lights went down. The audience's mood was boisterous. There were cheers for every name in the opening credits. Laughter of recognition broke out at the sight of the church. And when the first zombie lurched out of a doorway to bite an unsuspecting bridesmaid in the neck, the audience screamed. Tabitha's grin returned. As more victims met their fate, however, the audience grew quiet, though the sight of Sierra as the zombie ring bearer chewing on a severed arm did elicit a loud gasp. When the end credits rolled, the audience sat in silence. “They hated it,” Tabitha whispered to Ben as the lights came up. “They couldn't have,” Ben said. “It was awesome.” Pastor O'Donnell stepped to the front of the social hall. He looked pale and nervous. “I'd like to introduce you to the filmmaker behind this, um, film. Tabitha Dunkleman.” Tabitha swallowed hard, forced herself to smile, and went to the front of the room. As she took the microphone from the pastor, Katie let out a whoop and began clapping enthusiastically. After a moment's pause, the other cast and crew joined in, and soon the whole room was applauding. “Thank you,” Tabitha said. “And thanks to Pastor O'Donnell for letting us shoot in the church and for organizing this awesome premiere. I need to thank my cast and crew who worked very hard and did an awesome job. But most of all, I have to thank my star and best friend, Katie. I would not be up here if it weren't for her. Come up here, Katie.” Katie stepped shyly forward. Tabitha pulled her to the front of the room and gave her a big hug. “I'm sorry I was such a bitch,” Tabitha whispered as Pastor O'Donnell snapped photos. “That's okay,” Katie replied. “You were just being a director.” The next day Tabitha was up before dawn, waiting anxiously for the paperboy. When the Normal Chronicle finally landed in their driveway, she quickly found the article on page twelve titled, “Local Teen Makes Zombie Film.” Her worst fears were realized. The reviewer clearly hadn't liked the film, calling it, “disturbing in its heartlessness.” She did say Tabitha showed amazing technical skill for a teenager, but expressed hope that she would apply that skill to more human stories as she got older. Katie called Tabitha a short time later. “I saw the article,” Katie said. “I'm sorry.” “That's all right,” Tabitha replied. “I guess I'm not cut out to be a filmmaker after all.” “Ah, what do they know? It's just some cheesy small town paper.” “Hey, do you want to get some brunch?” Tabitha asked. An hour later, Katie and Tabitha were devouring eggs and sausage at the diner, and Katie was telling Tabitha all about her breakup with Alex. The film didn't come up once. But when Tabitha got home, she found an email from a horror film festival in Pittsburgh. They had seen the article and thought “Old, New, Undead, Blue” sounded like just the kind of edgy material they were looking for. They invited her to submit and even waived the entry fee. Tabitha quickly made a DVD to send, using the original poster of Katie for the box cover. Ultimately the film got accepted and was runner up for “Best Short Featuring Undead Characters.” But by then Tabitha had already started planning her next film: the story of cannibals who invade a newspaper office.

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. Christmas was Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell's busy season. Sure, Easter was the more important holiday from a religious standpoint, but Christmas brought with it all the cultural demands of decorations and gifts and social events as well. So by Christmas Eve, Henry was even more worn down than the average American. And the average American didn't have to perform two candlelight services like the good pastor did.Every year Henry promised himself he would get a jump on the season by finishing chores like gift buying in November. And every year Henry failed. This year he had purchased his gift for his wife Jennifer the afternoon of December 24th. He would have preferred that Jennifer just tell him specifically what she wanted for Christmas, but she liked to be surprised. Because she knew his holiday season was stressful, she did always try to make it easier on him by insisting anything he got her would be fineHowever after eighteen years of watching Jennifer attempting to fake delight at some sweater or kitchen appliance she clearly didn't want, Henry had concluded “anything he got her” was not fine. And he'd spent an enormous amount of time this year wandering the four malls in Normal seeking out something that would elicit genuine joy from his wife.He finally settled on a pair of diamond earrings. Which, he thought, should not have been such a hard gift to come up with. Diamonds, after all, were a girl's best friend. True, they had cost about six times what he'd planned to spend, but his normal thriftiness had been beaten into submission during the many hours trekking through the malls. With that annoying trait in a coma, picking a gift had been much easier.Henry had accepted the bubbly young saleswoman's offer of free gift wrapping since he was not very adept with tape and scissors. She had done a beautiful job, but had taken longer than he'd anticipated because there was a line of men in front of him waiting for their gifts to be wrapped. It seemed Henry wasn't the only husband picking up a last minute present for his wife at the mall jewelry store.Henry finally reached the church less than half an hour before the 7:30 pm service. Despite his rush, he paused at the church's nativity scene on the way in. The display's life sized figures were dusted with snow from a storm the previous evening. The baby Jesus was nearly buried in his manger. That would never do for Christmas Eve, so Henry carefully brushed off each of the figures and dumped the snow out of the manger. He re-wrapped the swaddling clothes around the plastic doll standing in for baby Jesus and set it back in place.“There you are!” It was his wife's voice. Henry quickly grabbed the beautifully wrapped present from where he'd set it by the manger and slid it into his coat pocket. When he turned around, Jennifer gave him a kiss. “I brought your dinner,” she said.Henry looked at his watch. “I'm afraid I'll have to eat it between services.” He rushed to his office, stuck the earrings in his desk drawer, and changed into his vestments.The 7:30 service went off reasonably well. The sanctuary looked festive in its Christmas décor, a “tree” made of poinsettia plants crowning the chancel. The choir performed beautifully. And Henry summoned the energy to deliver a moving sermon reminding the congregation of the original impetus for the holiday.Afterward, Jennifer sat with Henry in his office while he ate the dinner she'd brought. He was so grateful for the lukewarm ham and mashed potatoes that he began to wonder if he should have gotten her a diamond necklace as well as the earrings. He wasn't even bothered when she told him she wouldn't be staying for the later service as she still had some gift-wrapping to do back at the house.A full tummy did not help Henry fight his exhaustion. At the 11 pm service, he fell asleep twice during hymns. Organist Walter Tibble had to kick him to wake him up for the sermon, which was a little less energetic than his earlier performance. And Henry almost lit his stole on fire during the candlelight procession out of the church at midnight. He decided he'd better make himself a cup of coffee before attempting to drive home.Rejuvenated by the caffeine, Henry stuck the earrings in his coat pocket and turned out the lights. But when he went to lock his office door, he discovered his keys were not in his pocket. He searched his desk and the floor of his office, but no luck.He went to the sanctuary to see if perhaps the keys had fallen out of his pocket there. And while he was crawling around on the floor of the chancel, he bumped the stand holding the poinsettia plants. Half a dozen pots fell, spilling black soil across the carpet. Henry felt like crying. He knew he couldn't leave things in that state, so he took off his coat, got the vacuum and cleaned up the mess.But he still didn't have his keys. He checked the coffee room, even digging through the old grounds in the trash. Nothing. He sat in the middle of the floor and tried to focus his sleep-deprived brain.“Maybe I left them in the car!” he exclaimed.He ran outside. The brisk air quickly reminded him he had left his coat in the sanctuary. He jogged over to his car and peered through the window. The ignition was empty. Henry cursed and dashed back toward the church, rubbing his arms to keep warm. But he made the poor decision to take a shortcut across the lawn and slipped on a patch of wet snow, his feet shooting out from under him. He landed on his back, his head slamming painfully into the frozen ground. Despite the overcast sky, he saw a roiling constellation of stars. They soon dissipated, except for one bright star in the East. Henry rolled on to his hands and knees dizzily. The star seemed to be beckoning him. He crawled through the snow toward it. It led him in the direction of a clutch of shadowy figures. As he crawled closer, he realized it was the nativity display.Henry kneeled in front of the Christmas scene. A warm feeling of spirituality washed over him. Henry chose to believe it was the Holy Spirit, though a piece of him worried it might be the onset of hypothermia. He smiled as he looked at the baby Jesus and thought about the true meaning of the holiday.And that's when he saw his keys lying in the manger. He must have dropped them when he was cleaning the snow out. He looked up at the star that had guided him and realized it was actually a streetlight. This discovery didn't dampen his Christmas spirit in the least. God worked in mysterious ways. He said a little prayer of gratitude.Keys in hand, Henry retrieved his coat from the sanctuary and headed home. There he deposited Jennifer's gift under the tree. It was after two when he finally crawled into bed.Their daughter Katie roused them a mere five hours later. Though she was fifteen, she was still very much a small child when it came to opening presents on Christmas morning. Henry managed to stumble downstairs to the couch, where he promptly fell back asleep amidst the gift opening frenzy. So he missed the look of true delight on Jennifer's face when she unwrapped the earrings. But Katie got a picture of it on her cell phone.After breakfast, Henry went back to bad and slept until noon. It was a very merry Christmas in the O'Donnell household.Merry Christmas!

Hear the story read by the authorIn the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. The church's young associate pastor, Michelle Tellum, loves Thanksgiving. She loves the camaraderie of a big gathering of loved ones, the spirit of gratitude, and, most of all, the big, fancy meal. But Michelle's family lives out of town, and her boyfriend Ian's parents were spending this year's holiday in California with the family of his older sister who had recently given birth to their first grandchild.So Michelle decided to host an “orphans' Thanksgiving” at the church for all the congregants with nowhere else to go. She would make the turkey and stuffing and others could sign up to bring sides, salads and desserts. She was very excited – it would be the first Thanksgiving she'd ever hosted and she wanted it to be spectacular.Michelle and Ian got to the church early on Thanksgiving Day to begin the preparations. She had bought nice tablecloths, borrowed some fancy dishware from Ian's parents, and handcrafted napkin rings out of twigs. While she set all this up, Ian moved the TV from the lounge to the social hall so they could put the football games on. Michelle was not a football fan, but she knew if she didn't allow this, Ian and probably many of the other guests would just spend the day in the lounge and that would dampen the fellowship she so valued. Besides, guys watching football on Thanksgiving brought back nostalgic memories of her childhood holidays.Michelle had been brining the turkey since the previous morning. It was a process she'd read about in one of her gourmet cooking magazines. She was just lifting it out of the brine to place it in the roasting pan when the first guest arrived.It was Thad Wheeling, a thirty-year-old single man who was an infrequent attendee at worship but who played on the church softball team. Thad handed her a casserole dish containing string beans in a Swiss cheese sauce. “Fancy,” Michelle said.“Thanks, I got the recipe online. It needs to go in the oven for fifteen minutes or so to warm up before we eat.” He looked at the bucket of water with the turkey in it. “What's going on there?”“I brined the turkey,” she told him. “It's supposed to make it a lot more juicy and flavorful. I'm also going to make an apple-walnut-sausage stuffing. It's my own recipe – can't wait to see what you think.”“Actually,” Thad said, “I won't be able to give you a review. I've become a vegetarian.”Michelle's face fell. “Oh. I wish I knew. I would have arranged a vegetarian entre.”“I didn't want you to go to that kind of trouble. I'll be fine. I love side dishes and can easily make a meal of them.”“Tell you what,” Michelle said. “I'll make a little of the stuffing in a separate dish without the sausage.”The next guests to arrive were choir director Shane Reed, his girlfriend, Audra, and her six-year-old son Tyler. Shane brought mashed potatoes and Audra brought sweet potatoes. They were calling themselves “Team Potato.” Even Tyler contributed with a can of cranberry sauce.Then eighty-six year-old Donald East arrived. “Donald,” Michelle said, forcing a smile, “I didn't know you were coming.” She didn't know because he hadn't told her despite clear, bold-faced text on all the announcements that an RSVP was required.“I brought this,” Donald said, handing her a bag of potato chips. “Ah, you have the game on.” Donald shuffled over to join Ian in front of the TV.Michelle looked at Shane and Audra and sighed. “I'm sure we can accommodate one extra. I don't imagine he'll eat that much.”“I'll put these in a bowl,” Shane offered with a wink, taking the bag of chips.Missy Moore, a bubbly, heavy set, forty-four year-old woman who was always covered in cat hair, arrived shortly after that. She brought two pies, pumpkin and apple. By this time Michelle was at work on her sausage-apple-walnut stuffing. Missy oohed and aahed over the recipe. “It sounds wonderful,” she said. “Unfortunately I don't like nuts.”“I suppose I could make a separate batch without nuts,” Michelle said. “I'm already doing one without meat for Thad.”Missy clapped her hands together. “Oh, that would be awesome! But keep the sausage in mine.”It took Michelle a little longer than anticipated to get the turkey stuffed and in the oven due to extra effort involved in making three varieties of the stuffing. She was washing her hands when Ian poked his head in. “The Veckenshims called. They're not coming after all. Pete's not feeling well.”“But they were going to bring salad!” she moaned.“I think we can get by without it,” Ian said. “I mean, nobody goes to Thanksgiving dinner for salad.” A loud roar came from the TV. Ian hurried back to see what he'd missed.Michelle knew Ian was right about the salads, but she wanted her Thanksgiving to be perfect so she made a quick trip to the grocery store up the street. Fortunately they were staying open until 3 pm for people who needed last minute items.She'd just finished assembling the salad when Ian came in again. “We're out of potato chips and everyone's getting hungry,” he said. “Do we have any other appetizers?”“I suppose we could put out some cheese and crackers from the coffee hour supplies.”“Perfect!” Ian headed back to the social hall.“Don't worry, I'll get them,” Michelle said to the empty kitchen.Michelle sliced some cheese and arranged it artfully on a platter with crackers. She checked the turkey and found she still had about an hour to socialize with the guests before it was ready.She brought the snacks out to the social hall and squeezed in beside Ian on the couch. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then resumed his discussion with Thad and Donald about the relative merits of the zone defense. After ten minutes of trying to comprehend what they were talking about, Michelle decided to visit with some of the other guests. She walked over to Shane and Audra who were lounging in the far corner of the room. “Am I interrupting?” Michelle asked.“Not at all,” Audra said. “We were just taking the opportunity for a little adult conversation while Missy entertains Tyler.” She gestured to where Missy and Tyler were seated on a love seat reading a book.“Great,” Michelle said. “So what are you talking about?”“Twin Peaks,” Shane replied. “We've been watching the DVDs.”“I've never seen it,” Michelle said.“Oh, it's brilliant.” Shane launched into a sprawling description of the show, in the midst of which he and Audra got sidetracked into a debate about the meaning of a dwarf that talked backwards. It made even less sense to Michelle than the zone defense, so she politely excused herself and went to join Missy and Tyler.Missy was reading Tyler a story, or at least she was trying to. Tyler kept embellishing things with improvised subplots based on the pictures in the book. Michelle settled into a nearby chair to listen, and soon drifted off to sleep.She was awakened when Thad called out, “Hey Michelle, did you remember to put my beans in the oven?”“I was just about to,” Michelle said, groggily.A short time later the turkey was carved and everyone was gathered around the table. It had taken two hours longer than Michelle had planned and she hadn't managed to do much socializing. She was pretty sure this would be the last orphans' Thanksgiving she would host.Michelle said grace. The hungry diners lunged for the food as soon as they heard the word, “Amen.” She watched them shovel the turkey and various kinds of stuffing into their mouths with barely a pause to taste it. Michelle found she didn't have much appetite herself.And then Missy said, “I have an idea! Let's go around the table and say what we're grateful for. I'll start. I'm grateful for my cats, Cinnamon, Vanilla, Pepper, Salty and Chocolate.”She looked at Ian who was sitting next to her. “I'm grateful the church has cable so we could watch the games,” he said.Michelle found she was having a hard time thinking of anything very specific she was grateful for at that moment, so she went to an old standby: “I'm thankful for my health.”Shane was next. “I'm grateful I found Audra, the love of my life.”“Aw, that's so sweet,” Audra said. “I'm grateful for both my boys.” She gave Shane and Tyler each a kiss. Tyler made a face. Audra asked Tyler what he was grateful for.“My scooter,” he answered.Donald was next in line. He was hunched over his plate, mechanically scooping stuffing into his mouth, apparently ignoring the conversation.“Mr. East,” Missy prodded, “what are you thankful for?”“Wazzat?” Donald asked, looking up. He was hard of hearing.“We're going around the table saying what we're thankful for,” Missy told him.“Oh.” Donald thought for a few moments. “I'm thankful for the company. Since my wife passed and our kids live out of state, I was going to have to have Thanksgiving dinner by myself. I'm also thankful for this amazing stuffing. You're quite a cook, Pastor.”Then Donald returned his attention to his plate. Thad was the last in line. “I'm thankful for Pastor Michelle's hospitality,” he said. “And as a gesture of that gratitude, I'll take care of the clean up after dinner.” The others quickly offered to help him.Michelle beamed. “Thank you,” she said. “Pass the sweet potatoes, please.” She had finally found her appetite.

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, fifteen-year-old Tabitha Dunkleman found herself sitting in Pastor O'Donnell's office anxiously awaiting a decision on a request she had made. She was with her best friend Katie who also happened to be the pastor's daughter. Tabitha hoped that would make a difference. If the pastor didn't let her shoot in the church, there was no way she could make her short film. Tabitha had only recently decided she wanted to be a movie director. And the kinds of movies she wanted to make were horror movies. She'd written a short script about zombies attacking a wedding called “Old, New, Undead, Blue.” She'd asked Katie to star in it because Katie was her best friend. The fact that her father also happened to have access to a church was a bonus. Now they just needed him to say yes. “When did you want to do this?” O'Donnell asked. “A week from Friday,” Tabitha said. The pastor checked the church calendar. “Well, there's nothing scheduled for that Friday, but the Humpleman wedding is in the sanctuary on Saturday, so you'll have to make sure you leave everything the way you found it.” Tabitha grinned and swore they'd be extra careful. With their location secured, Tabitha spent the next ten days meticulously planning her shoot. On the designated Friday, the cast and crew gathered at the church after school. Tabitha had recruited a quiet boy named Ben from her art class to do the zombie make-up and effects. Tabitha knew that Katie thought Ben was creepy – he always wore black and drew bizarre pictures all over his notebooks. But creepy was just what Tabitha needed for her movie. Ben had been at work all week creating a crucial prop for the film – a severed arm. When he unveiled it to Katie and Tabitha they both took an involuntary step back in disgust. “That's not real, is it?” Katie asked. Ben laughed. “Of course not. It's made of latex and gel. I found a video online that showed how to create realistic body part props.” Tabitha smiled. “This movie is going to be awesome.” Ben began doing make-up on the actors who were to play zombies while the crew set up the camera and equipment. The crew consisted of two people – Tabitha and cinematographer Becky Goodhart, a twelve-year-old member of the church whose primary qualification was that her parents owned a top-of-the-line digital video camera. It took longer than Tabitha anticipated to set up the gear, but they still finished before the make-up was done. Tabitha checked her watch nervously. She called Ben aside to ask what was taking so long. “It's the little girl you got to play the ring bearer,” he told her. “Her dad's made me redo her make-up three times.” Tabitha had cast Sierra Smith, a five-year-old girl from the church, to play the part of a zombie ring bearer. Her father, Arthur, was certain Sierra would be a movie star some day. Either that or President. At first, Ben had just dusted Sierra with powder to make her pale and smeared dark eye shadow under her eyes. But Arthur noticed how much gorier the other zombies were, and insisted Ben make Sierra similarly gruesome. So Ben added gaping wounds on her cheeks and forehead. But when Arthur saw this, he worried that when Hollywood agents saw the film, as he was sure they would, they wouldn't be able to tell how cute Sierra was. So Ben tried to split the difference, but the result was neither horrific enough nor cute enough to satisfy Arthur. “None of my books explain how to do make-up that's both horrifying and cute,” Ben confided to Tabitha. While Ben reworked Sierra's make-up for a fourth time, Tabitha decided to shoot some of the scenes with the non-zombie characters. Katie was starring as the bride. She had convinced her boyfriend, Alex, to play the groom. The idea of dressing up in a wedding dress and marrying Alex in the church thrilled Katie, even if it was just pretend. They began with a scene where the groom professes his love for the bride as the zombies close in. Katie was terrific, but Alex couldn't seem to remember his lines. Or rather he remembered them, but never in the proper order. After fourteen takes, Tabitha suggested the two take a break so Alex could study his script some more. They were now two and a half hours behind schedule and hadn't gotten a single shot. Tabitha was starting to worry that she wouldn't even finish the film. Tabitha went to check on the status of Sierra's make-up. She was pleased to discover that Arthur had finally approved a look – basically the same pale, hollow eyed effect Ben had started with. They set up for the shot of the zombie ring bearer chowing down on the fake arm. Unfortunately, when Sierra saw the arm, she began to cry. It took half an hour to convince her it wasn't real, and another half-hour to get her to pretend to bite it. When they finally did get Sierra to chew on the arm, it was delightfully disturbing. Tabitha's confidence returned in a flood – only to abandon her just as quickly when they tried a shot of Sierra shuffling up the aisle. Sierra did a very convincing undead shuffle, but could only go two steps before breaking into a giggle. Tabitha did her best to demonstrate a proper zombie moan, but it only made Sierra laugh more. Tabitha decided to give Sierra a break and return to the bride and groom scene. She found Alex running lines with Ben. “How's it going?” she asked. “Great,” Alex replied. “Ben's going to be the groom. He's a much better actor than I am.” Tabitha looked at her watch. She was almost four hours behind schedule. “Fine,” she said. “So you'll tell Katie, right?” Alex said. “Why me?” Tabitha asked. “You're the director.” Tabitha went to break the news to Katie. Her star was not pleased. “Ben's a nerd!” Katie hissed. “Nobody will believe I'd marry someone like that.” “They will because you're such a great actress,” Tabitha replied. She was a natural at dealing with actors. It took quite a bit more buttering up, but finally Katie agreed to do the scene with Ben. They got into position and Tabitha called, “Action.” At first it didn't go very well. Ben was indeed a fine actor, but when he took Katie's hand, she wrinkled her nose as though he were already undead. And when he went to kiss her, the rest of Katie's face scrunched up just like her nose. But then something happened. As the kiss lingered, Katie relaxed into it. When she and Ben separated, Katie stared at him slack jawed. “Cut!” Tabitha yelled. “Katie, that's your line.” “Sorry,” Katie mumbled. “From the top,” Tabitha ordered. “Action.” This time, the romantic tension was electric. Tabitha got so caught up in the scene, she forgot to call cut until Becky nudged her. “That was amazing!” Tabitha shouted. “I bet we win awards for this film.” When Ben went to put on zombie make-up for his next scene, Katie pulled Tabitha aside. “It wasn't as bad as I thought,” she whispered. “Don't tell Alex, but Ben is an excellent kisser. Alex is kind of… slobbery.” Tabitha went to see if Sierra had gotten over her giggles. She found the little girl curled up on one of the pews asleep, using the fake severed arm as a pillow. “It's an hour past her bedtime,” Arthur said apologetically. “I guess we can cut that shot out of the movie,” Tabitha said with a sigh. Just when things were going so well. Arthur apologized again and gently shook Sierra. “Time to go home, honey.” Sierra climbed to her feet and staggered out into the aisle, her eyes glassy and half-closed and her mouth hanging open loosely. She looked just like the walking dead. “Start rolling,” Tabitha hissed to Becky. They got the shot. It was now 11:00 p.m. and there were still several scenes left to shoot. Becky's mom had come to pick her up, but Tabitha convinced her to let Becky stay a while longer by offering her the hastily added part of the bride's mother. They were setting up for the last scene, the tragic revelation that the groom had become a zombie, when Becky's mom finally ran out of patience. She insisted Becky come home, but did agree to let the camera stay behind. Alex took over as cinematographer. At 3:00 a.m. Tabitha finally sighed, “That's a wrap.” Only she, Katie, Alex, and Ben were left to clean up. Tabitha was so exhausted she no longer cared whether the film was any good, she was just happy to be finished. Ben, however, was still full of energy. As Tabitha was making a final sweep of the sanctuary picking up props, he jumped out at her from between the pews, still in his zombie make-up, growling. Tabitha was too tired to be startled, so she just chuckled. “Is that how you react when the undead tries to bite you,” Ben said, pretending to pout. “Better be careful,” Tabitha replied. “I might just bite back.” And then she kissed him. A second later she pulled away, her face flushing. “I don't know why I did that,” she stammered. “I guess… Katie told me you were a good kisser.” “Do you agree?” Ben asked. Tabitha felt herself blush even deeper but couldn't muster an answer. “Well, I think you're a pretty good kisser,” Ben said with a smile and kissed her again. “A-hem!” It was Katie. She was looking at them in utter shock. Tabitha wiped Ben's monster make-up from around her mouth. “We were just—” “I saw what you were just,” Katie said. “Come on, I have to lock up and I'm tired.” The filmmakers headed home for some well-earned sleep. The next day Pastor O'Donnell was presiding over the Humpleman wedding when in the middle of his musings about the nature of commitment, someone let out a blood-curdling scream. It seemed the bride's aunt had discovered the fake severed arm that had been forgotten under one of the pews.Happy Halloween!--Don't forget to order your copy of L.O.L: Little Old Ladies!

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, Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell invited a visiting African aid worker to speak at a potluck mission luncheon about her work with refugees in Uganda. Pastor O'Donnell sat with his fifteen-year-old daughter Katie. As the presentation started, Katie felt a special kinship with the Ugandan victims of political oppression. After all, she was being forced to attend this snoozefest against her will. She would much rather have been at the movies or shopping or even doing homework. But her dictator of a father insisted she be subjected to the torture of tuna casserole, ambrosia salad, and a depressing slide show. The tuna casserole and ambrosia salad were as tortuous as Katie expected, and the slide show was indeed depressing. But as the speaker told the stories of several African kids living in a refugee camp, Katie's resentful attitude began to change. Halfway through the presentation, Katie felt silly for comparing her hardships to those of the unfortunate Ugandans. Though she doubted even they would've wanted the tuna casserole. As the lights came up, Henry noticed Katie wiping at the corners of her eyes. “Are you crying?” he asked. “Weeping with boredom,” Katie mumbled. She was not about to admit to her father how touched she was by the plight of those heroic kids. It would set a bad precedent for future mission luncheons. The presentation was still gnawing at Katie's mind during the youth group meeting that evening. The group's leader, Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum, noticed how quiet Katie was. After the closing prayer, Michelle asked her if anything was wrong. “I think we should do something to help the poor refugees in Uganda,” she said. “What did you have in mind?” “And don't tell us you want to go to Africa,” interjected Tabitha Dunkleman, Katie's best friend. “It's way too hot there. I don't like to sweat.” Twelve-year-old Becky Goodheart rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that's why we won't be going to Africa.” “I think we should have a car wash,” Katie answered, ignoring the other girls. “We can donate the proceeds to that woman's organization.” “What a compassionate proposal,” Michelle said. “I have to say, I'm impressed.” “Well, we have so much. When we get a chance to help others, we ought to seize the opportunity.” With that Katie and the rest of the group headed home, leaving Michelle to clean up. They planned the car wash for a Saturday morning. Katie, Tabitha, Becky, and Katie's boyfriend Joe showed up bright and early, ready to work. Michelle suggested they make signs to attract passing cars. Katie labored over her sign, determined not to let the Ugandan kids down. She outlined every multi-colored letter in glue and glitter. She also drew a picture of Africa. Or at least she tried – Katie was no cartographer. The shape resembled a bunch of bananas more than a continent. Katie put so much care into the manufacture of her sign that by the time she was finished, the others had already lured in three customers and were hard at work washing. It was a warm day and Katie wanted to get a little sun, so she stripped off her shorts and T-shirt to reveal the bikini she'd worn underneath. She stood at the edge of the driveway, jumping up and down with her super-cute sign and shouting at passing motorists. It proved quite effective. Soon a line of cars was waiting for a wash. However, Katie's enthusiastic dancing and scanty attire was also distracting poor Joe. It got so bad that at one point he accidentally hosed off Tabitha instead of the car he was washing. Tabitha expressed her displeasure with considerable vehemence. Joe could only stammer, “It was an accident.” Tabitha released the poor hormonal boy from her verbal tirade and stomped over to Katie. “Maybe you should take a turn washing and let me hold the sign for a while,” Tabitha suggested. Katie looked her friend up and down. Tabitha's old jeans and T-shirt were dripping wet and stained with grime, and her hair hung in tangled strands around her face. “Listen,” Katie said as gently as she could, “you're kind of all messy and gross. I don't know if that image is going to appeal to potential customers. Remember, this is about the Ugandan kids, not us.” Tabitha considered having her own “accident” with the hose, but she didn't think it would reach all the way to the edge of the driveway. About then, Pastor O'Donnell pulled in. He took one look at Katie and ordered her to put her T-shirt and shorts back on. “I won't have my daughter jumping around on a street corner in her bikini,” he bellowed. Katie sighed and rolled her eyes and mumbled something about “old prude” under her breath as she dressed. But O'Donnell was used to that kind of behavior from his daughter and barely noticed. Instead, he surveyed the church parking lot in amazement. “Wow, this place is packed. I'm really proud of you, Katie. You too, Tabitha. So, which one of you is going to wash my car?” “You have to wait in line, Dad,” Katie told him. O'Donnell's smile faltered slightly. He hadn't counted on a line. He was supposed to play golf with the imam from the local mosque in an hour. But he wanted to support Katie's newfound altruistic streak. As he pulled into the line of cars, Katie nudged Tabitha. “You better get back to washing. People are going to get impatient and might leave. Remember the Ugandan kids.” “I'm so proud of you,” Tabitha said, giving her a big, wet hug. Then she returned to washing. It was a good thing, because neither Becky nor Joe were making much progress. Joe had been working on Henrietta Miggins' big old Ford for an hour. Every time he thought he was done, Henrietta would point out several spots she claimed he'd missed, though Joe couldn't detect any dirt where she indicated. And Becky was taking a break after getting lightheaded while cleaning interior windows. She had perhaps been a little too overzealous with the ammonia-based cleaning spray in the enclosed space of the cars. But Tabitha was an efficient washing machine. She could scrub the average car bumper to bumper in under ten minutes. At ten dollars a car, she was raking in a bunch of money for the cause. Thirty-seven minutes after Pastor O'Donnell arrived, Tabitha finally got to his car. He watched her work, trying not to look impatient. As soon as she was done, he handed her ten dollars and hopped behind the wheel. “You might want to let that dry,” Tabitha suggested. “No time,” O'Donnell replied. He hit the gas. As the car pulled away, it splashed through a puddle, spraying Henrietta's car with mud. Joe sighed. Henrietta had finally declared him finished moments before. He went to get a new rag. As O'Donnell sped down the street, he passed a man on a riding mower trimming a school lawn. It was windy, and a cloud of grass clippings wafted away from the mower and across the street. The pastor was unable to avoid driving straight through it. Hundreds of little green blades stuck to the wet car. O'Donnell circled the block and pulled back into the car wash. “You were right,” He told Tabitha, “I should've let it dry. Can you hose it off again?” “Sure,” she said. She got the hose and sprayed the car clean. “That'll be ten bucks.” The pastor opened his mouth to protest that a simple hose down wasn't worth full price, but before he could speak, Tabitha added, “You know, for the Ugandan kids.” The pastor forced a smile as he dug out his wallet. Two hours later they closed the car wash. Tabitha, Joe and Becky cleaned up the buckets and rags while Katie helped Michelle count the money. They were just finishing up when Pastor O'Donnell pulled back in, his car covered in dust. As he got out, an exhausted Tabitha looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “Can you wash it one more time?” he asked. “They were doing construction by the golf course.” He held up a ten dollar bill. “Please?” Tabitha sighed and refilled her bucket with soapy water. She was about done when Katie called, “Hurry up, Tabitha! We want to take a group picture.” Tabitha clenched her teeth and wiped down the pastor's car with exaggerated care. Katie fixed her with an impatient stare, but that only made Tabitha move slower. Finally she strolled over to join the others. “About time,” Katie snapped. “How's my hair?” Tabitha studied Katie through the wild, muddy strands of her own bangs. “Perfect. Nobody would ever know you spent the whole day working at a car wash.” “Good,” Katie said. “Boy, I'm beat. It's hard jumping around with a sign and smiling for so long.” As they were getting in position for the photo, Tabitha asked Pastor Michelle how much money they'd raised. “Three hundred and twenty dollars,” she replied. “I'm very proud of you kids.” Katie beamed. “It's so rewarding to do something good for the world, isn't it?” “It is,” Tabitha admitted. She realized that she was in a surprisingly happy mood despite her sore muscles and drenched, dirty clothes. But it didn't stop her from holding up her fingers like rabbit ears behind Katie's head when Pastor Michelle snapped the photo.--I've published a new Little Church Stories book!  It's called L.O.L.: Little Old Ladies and collects eighteen stories from the blog about Henrietta Miggins, Ceila Simmons and Betsy Davis.  You can order it in hard copy or as an e-book at Lulu.com.

Hear the story read by the author.In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Last Sunday morning, Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell stood in his bathroom in his underwear examining himself in the mirror. For the most part, the pastor's complexion was his usual pasty white. But most of his left arm glowed bright red like a freshly boiled lobster. Which was ironic because a lobster was the cause of his sunburn. He had been driving back from a meeting in Harrisburg on Saturday at about one in the afternoon, heading for practice with the church softball team, the Miracles. A sack lunch his wife Jennifer had made sat on the passenger seat, though Henry wasn't enthusiastic about the contents. Jennifer had been attempting to get him to eat healthier for years. It was an uphill battle. The one weapon she had was that Henry didn't like to cook. So she made him salads and he ate them because it was easier than making something for himself. He had just about built up enough of an appetite to be tempted by the salad in today's sack lunch when he passed Muriel's Seafood Shack. A hand-lettered banner advertised a fresh Maine lobster special. He knew he shouldn't stop. He was already going to be late to practice and it was no secret Henry needed more practice than most of the team. The Miracles' next game was against the Shepherds, a team from a Presbyterian mega-church. They had become something of a rival in the mind of the Miracles' coach, Shane Reed, as the Shepherds trounced the Miracles every year. Shane had told the team that he intended this year to be different. Henry spun the car into Muriel's dirt parking lot. Truth be told, Henry didn't care nearly as much about beating the Shepherds as Shane did. “Shack” was an apt descriptor for Muriel's establishment. Muriel and her small staff did the cooking in an unpainted wooden hut, and the diners ate outside at a motley collection of picnic tables. After getting his fresh lobster platter at the shack's window, Henry decided to skip the tables and eat in the shade of a nearby tree. He had the salad Jennifer made him as his side dish. Afterward he decided he better let the big meal settle for a few minutes before engaging in any athletic endeavors. But the day was sunny and warm, and with his belly full of lobster, Henry fell asleep. Unfortunately, his left arm sprawled out of the shade, and thus the sunburn that he was currently examining. The burn stung, but that wasn't Henry's chief concern. Because of his unplanned nap, he'd never made it to softball practice. He had called Shane's cell phone as soon as he'd woken up and left a message that he had, “been delayed coming home from my meeting.” Henry felt a little guilty that he was vague about what had delayed him, but reminded himself that the commandment was “Thou shalt not lie,” not “Thou shalt not be vague.” However if Shane saw the sunburn at church that morning he might start asking uncomfortable questions. Fortunately, once Henry put on a long sleeved dress shirt, the only part of the sunburn that was exposed was his hand. It was another warm day, but the church was air-conditioned and it wasn't at all unusual for Henry to wear a suit to preach, even in the heat of summer. “I'm doing it out of reverence to God, not an attempt to deceive Shane,” he told himself. All through the service, Henry kept his left hand hidden behind the pulpit, making all his gestures with his right hand. And he tucked his left hand behind his back when he greeted the congregation as they departed the sanctuary. Not a single person noticed the sunburn. When the sanctuary was empty, he thrust his left hand into his pocket and went into the social hall. He was distressed to see that the mission committee was hosting coffee hour and Missy Moore had brought mini cinnamon rolls. Henry loved mini cinnamon rolls. But he couldn't figure out a dignified way to hold a plate and eat them with only one hand. So he settled for a cup of coffee. Shane and Missy joined him. “Did you get some cinnamon rolls, pastor?” Missy asked. “No,” Henry said, “Jennifer's been on me to lose some weight.” He privately congratulated himself on the truth of that statement. “We missed you at practice yesterday,” Shane said. “I know,” Henry replied. “Some of those meetings I have to attend can be pretty boring.” No lie there, either! “You missed a hilarious moment,” Missy continued. She was the team's catcher. “Del was running to home plate and he tried to slide and came to a stop a good three feet short!” She guffawed, and in her mirth, grabbed Henry's left arm. Stinging pain shot through him as her fingers dug into the sunburn, but Henry managed to fake a chuckle. He wiped a tear away from his eye with his right forearm and said, “Hilarious.” Henry downed the rest of his coffee so he would have a reason to excuse himself. As he was refilling his cup, Del Winslow came over. “I have some books to donate to the reading room,” Del said, “but they're in my trunk and I hurt my back at softball practice yesterday. Would you mind giving me a hand?” “Sure,” Henry replied and followed Del out to the parking lot. “We have to do something about Missy Moore,” Del said as he handed Henry the box of books. “The woman is a menace. Her ineptitude is the reason I hurt my back.” “Was that when you were sliding into home and came up short?” “Did she tell you that?” Del demanded. “I came up short because she was playing out of position. If she'd been where she was supposed to be, I would have been able to time my slide properly and I wouldn't have gotten hurt.” “I sympathize,” Henry said, “but Shane's the coach. This sounds like a matter for him.” “I agree, and there he is. Shane!” Henry looked over his shoulder and discovered that Shane had just exited the church. Henry quickly shifted the box of books under his right arm and stuck his left hand in his pocket. Shane joined them and Del proceeded to explain again how Missy's poor play had resulted in his injury. He then added several other complaints, including her offensive sense of humor, laughing at him when he was injured. Frankly, Henry didn't think he had much of a case. However, to be fair, the pastor pretty much quit listening after ten minutes. The sun was beating down mercilessly and his arm was aching from the heavy box and he could feel sweat trickling down his back and beading on his forehead and now his arm had gone completely numb and Del's face was starting to look weirdly blurry… “Are you alright?” Shane asked, bringing Henry back to the conversation. Both Del and Shane were studying him with concern. “It's just, it's kind of hot out here…” Henry replied faintly. “We better get you inside before you get heat stroke,” Shane said, taking the box of books from him. As the circulation returned to his weary arm, Henry felt a sudden urge to kiss Shane, possibly a sign that heat stroke had already set in. They brought Henry into the social hall and Shane got him a cup of water. “Take off your tie and roll up your sleeves,” Del suggested. “Um, actually, I have a T-shirt in my office. I'll go change into that.” It was true; Henry did have a T-shirt in the office. A church camp had given it to him as a thank-you for filling in at their chapel service once. It was too small for him, but it would be cooler than his dress shirt. Henry staggered into his office and closed the door. He immediately peeled off his sweat-soaked dress shirt and tie, and stood under the air conditioning vent, letting the cool air wash over him. His body temperature had just about dropped back to normal when someone knocked. “Pastor, are you all right?” Shane asked through the door. “Uh, just a minute!” Henry called. He scrambled for the T-shirt, but realized it would not cover the sunburn on his arm. He turned to get his dress shirt and, in his haste, tripped over his chair. He sprawled on the floor with a thud. Shane threw open the door, fearful the pastor had fainted. “What happened!” Shane cried. “I tripped,” Henry said. “I'm okay though.” Then Shane noticed his arm. “How'd you get that sunburn?” Henry sighed. It was time to tell the whole truth. He explained about the lobster and falling asleep and added a profuse apology for missing practice. When he was done, he waited to see what Shane would say. Shane thought for several moments. “Tell you what. You handle this thing with Missy and Del and we'll call it even.” Henry nodded his agreement. He supposed it was a fitting punishment for not coming clean right away. Later that afternoon the Miracles lost to the Shepherds once again, but it had nothing to do with Henry missing practice or even Del's injured back. The Shepherds were just superior ballplayers.

Hear the story read by the author.In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Last Sunday was warm and breezy, and the windows of the social hall had been thrown open for coffee hour. Audra Park, however, was too preoccupied to enjoy the weather. She was telling Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell about her ideas for mission projects when she spotted her six-year-old son Tyler making his fourth trip to the refreshment table. “You've had enough cookies,” Audra snapped as she intercepted the boy. “But I'm hungry,” Tyler whined. “We'll go to lunch as soon as I finish talking to Pastor O'Donnell,” Audra replied. “Can you please go play?” Tyler sighed as only a six year-old unfairly denied a cookie can sigh and trudged off. Audra returned to the pastor, apologizing for the interruption. “Don't worry,” he said. “I remember when my daughter was his age.” As Audra continued to explain her mission idea, she noticed that O'Donnell had grown distracted by something behind her. She turned and let out a gasp. Tyler was creeping along the wall with a ten-inch carving knife in his hand. “Tyler!” she shouted, running over to him. “Give me that. What were you thinking?” “I was hunting a snake,” he said. “There are no snakes in here,” she replied. “You know you aren't allowed to handle knives without supervision.” “There is a snake,” Tyler cried. “It bit my shoe!” He stuck his left foot out revealing two puncture holes about half an inch apart on the tip of his tennis shoe. “Tyler Park, what did you do? Those were brand new! Why would you poke holes in them?” “It was a snake, Mom,” Tyler insisted. Audra sighed. “Are you familiar with the boy who cried wolf?” “It was a snake, not a wolf! Geez, will you listen to me?” “We'll talk about this when we get home,” Audra said. “Now sit right here until I'm finished.” Tyler flopped onto a chair and folded his arms, his lip protruding in an exaggerated pout. Audra returned to the pastor. “He said he saw a snake,” she sighed. “My son has an active imagination.” O'Donnell chuckled. “They probably discussed the Garden of Eden in Sunday school. Last week's lesson was about Daniel, and Tyler told me bullies at his school were throwing kids to the lions.” Just then there was a high-pitched scream from the kitchen. The pastor ran toward it, Audra following close behind. They found church secretary Tammy Billings standing in the middle of the room looking even paler than normal, her fingers fluttering about her mouth. “What happened?” O'Donnell asked. “Snake,” Tammy squeaked, pointing at the cupboard. Audra's face went pale. She dashed from the kitchen, shouting Tyler's name. O'Donnell reached for the cupboard. “Don't open it!” Tammy exclaimed. “Relax,” the pastor said. “I'm sure it's more afraid of us than we are of it.” Tammy thought snakes must be timid creatures indeed if this one was more scared than she was. She remembered that the offering still needed to be counted, and decided now would be a terrific time for that task. She bolted for the church office before Pastor O'Donnell could open the cupboard. It so happened that as a boy O'Donnell had been fascinated by snakes and even kept a garter snake as a pet for a while. He knew most were harmless, though there were a few species of rattlesnake in Pennsylvania. So he opened the door calmly but cautiously. All that he could see in the cupboard were boxes of tin foil and plastic bags. For a moment he wondered if Tammy had imagined the snake. But given Tyler's claim, that would be too much of a coincidence. He opened the cupboard a little farther. Inside, the shelves ran the entire length of the cabinetry with no sides separating the individual sections. The snake had most likely slithered along the shelves after Tammy disturbed it. O'Donnell began methodically opening each door in turn, using a wooden spoon to shift the contents around. But there was no sign of any snake. Meanwhile, Tyler was writhing on the floor as Audra wrenched his shoe and sock off to examine his toes. “Where did it bite you?” she cried. “It didn't!” Tyler said. “It just bit the end of my shoe.” After a ten minute inspection, Audra was finally satisfied that his skin hadn't been broken and that he wasn't about to go into a poison induced coma. She hugged him tightly. “Mom, you're hurting me,” he mumbled against her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said, releasing him. Tyler saw the worry in his mother's eyes. It kind of scared him. It also gave him an idea. “Could I maybe have a cookie?” he asked. “Absolutely,” Audra replied. Most of the congregation had already departed to enjoy their Sunday afternoons, but there were still a few cookies on the table. As Tyler and Audra finished them off, neither noticed the snake slithering across the linoleum behind them. The snake was not trying to scare anybody, of course. It had only bitten Tyler's shoe because he nearly stepped on it while running after a ball. And it was drawn to the church office by a shuffling noise that it thought might be a rodent. Had it known Tammy was in there, it would have chosen a different route. But its eyes were at floor level, so it didn't even notice Tammy sitting behind the desk. However Tammy, from her vantage point, definitely noticed the serpent gliding across the office threshold. She scrambled up onto the desk. She watched as the snake curled itself into a swirl in the middle of the office floor, sunlight glinting off its reddish brown and white scales, its malevolent obsidian eyes scanning the room, its tongue tasting the air. Tammy imagined it tasted her fear. She wondered what flavor fear most resembled. The snake was between her and the door. She leaned over slowly to peer into the social hall, hoping someone would be there to rescue her, but Tyler and Audra had already left and the room was now empty. She needed another means of escape. She could reach the window from the desk, but when she tried to raise it she discovered it had been painted shut. Tammy glanced back at the snake. It gazed implacably at her. Panic swelled in her throat, threatening to choke her. She had to get away from those unblinking eyes or they would drive her mad! There was only one place to go: The closet. Slowly she climbed down and slipped through the closet door. She stuffed her sweater in the gap at the base of the door so the snake couldn't get in. But now the small space was completely dark. She triggered her cell phone display for light. Her cell phone! Help was but a call away. She dialed Pastor O'Donnell's number. “I'm trapped in the closet in the office,” she whispered when he answered. “The snake is right outside. Stop laughing, it isn't funny!” She hung up angrily. Several minutes passed. She held the cell phone in her left hand, aiming the light at the bottom of the door, as she used her right hand to dab away the beads of icy sweat that kept forming on her temple. Suddenly, the door swung open. Tammy yelped, momentarily imagining the snake had figured out how to turn the knob with its mouth. But it was only Pastor O'Donnell. “Did you see the snake?” she asked. “Yes,” O'Donnell whispered. “It's right above you.” Tammy screamed and climbed the pastor like he was a tree. But since, unlike a tree, the pastor lacked roots, both of them tumbled onto the carpet. O'Donnell was laughing so hard he was crying. Tammy scrambled to her feet and looked into the closet. “Where is it!” she screeched. “Under there,” O'Donnell gasped, pointing at an overturned plastic wastebasket in the middle of the office floor. “It was sleeping in the sunlight.” Tammy seethed at the prank he'd played on her, but could not at the moment think of an appropriate comeback. She stalked out of the office while O'Donnell called Normal's animal control department. She intended to head straight home, but she forgot to take her purse with her and was unwilling to reenter the office while the snake was there, wastebasket or no wastebasket. Once the animal control agent had captured the snake, Pastor O'Donnell insisted that Tammy take a look at it. “It's in a cage,” he told her. “Come on, it'll make you feel better.” Reluctantly, Tammy entered the office and studied the cage from a safe distance. She wondered if they'd gotten the right one. The snake didn't look as big as she'd remembered. “It's a milk snake,” the animal control officer said helpfully. “Non-venomous. See that bulge behind the head? It's fed in the last half hour so it's pretty docile.” “Fed on what?” Tammy asked. “Probably a mouse. See, it did you a favor.” “A… mouse?” O'Donnell stammered, then dashed from the room. Tammy walked the animal control officer out to his truck. Pastor O'Donnell was in the parking lot waiting for her. “Call an exterminator Monday,” he told her. “I won't have mice in the church. Sneaky, filthy little rodents.” He shuddered. “Will do,” Tammy said with a smile. She was remembering how O'Donnell had intentionally scared her earlier. And she was pretty sure she'd seen some rubber mouse toys for cats at the pet store.

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 Mondays Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell goes over the following Sunday's service with church secretary Tammy Billings so she can make the bulletin.  The basic liturgy is the same every week; so usually it's just a matter of filling in the sermon title, hymn numbers and any special events.  But during one recent Monday meeting, Tammy raised a concern about the number of special items that had converged for that particular service.“We ought to cut something or we're going to run long,” she said.“What would we cut?” Henry asked.  “People complain if we cut the hymns, the choir complains if we cut the anthem, and we always do communion on the first Sunday of the month.”“Maybe we could move the Sherfield baptism to next week.” “This is the only weekend both sets of grandparents are in town.”“Hm.  Well, what's this finance committee moment with Donald East?”“He wants to say a few words about the fundraising campaign to fix the organ.”“Donald rarely stops after only a few words,” Tammy pointed out.“True,” Henry said, “but the fundraising is not going as well as we hoped.  I don't think we can afford to put it off.”“Could we cut the special music?”“Celia Simmons' solo?  Do you want to ask her?”  Celia had a tendency to see personal insults in the most innocuous comments.  She would undoubtedly find a slight in a request not to sing.“Well if we keep everything, you're going to have to do a really short sermon,” Tammy snapped.“So it'll be a long service,” Henry replied.  “People will just have to deal.”“Is that what you're going to tell Del Winslow?”Henry chewed his lip.  Del was of the firm belief that church service should last exactly one hour.  If it ran over by even two minutes, Del would subject Henry to a long rant at coffee hour.“Yes,” Henry said petulantly.  “Del will just have to deal, too.  Now if there's nothing else, I'm going for a walk.”Henry stomped outside and stood at the edge of the parking lot, rubbing his jaw.  Why did people insist on trying to force worship into a little box?  It wasn't right.  In fact, he decided, that would be his sermon topic.  It was a much better topic than the one he'd been planning on the linguistics of one of the psalms.  He would make such a compelling case against clock watching at church that Del wouldn't dare to complain no matter how long they ran.Henry noticed that Jose, the church janitor and maintenance man, had joined him and was rubbing his jaw in the same manner as Henry.  “The soil is no good anymore,” Jose said, “And the teenager you hired to mow does not do any maintenance.  The grass needs reseeding.”Startled, Henry realized that Jose thought he was looking at the lawn in front of the church.  So Henry looked.  Jose was right – it was in awful condition.  There were large patches of dirt, and much of the remaining grass was a sickly grey color.  “I suppose we'll have to hire landscapers,” Henry sighed.“Or I could do it,” Jose replied.“Would you?” Henry asked.“Sure.  If you'll pay me for the extra time and the supplies. But it would be best to wait until fall when the heat is less.”“I can't have the lawn look like this all summer.  Do it as soon as you can.”“I will do it this week,” Jose replied.And he did.  Henry stayed in his office late every night that week, toiling over his sermon.  It had become something of a holy mission in his head.  Whenever he paused to chew over exactly the right word to use, he would see Jose through the window working on the lawn.Late Friday afternoon, Tammy fielded one last call from a young couple who was looking for a place for their wedding.  Tammy arranged for them to drop by before the service on Sunday.  Then she packed up and said goodbye to the pastor.  He grunted, barely looking up from his opus of a sermon.  As she left, she waved to Jose who was aerating the lawn.  It looked like hard work and the day was quite warm.  Sweat streamed down Jose's face.Sunday morning Tammy returned to the church to meet the young engaged couple.  The moment she stepped out of her car, she was reminded of a week she'd spent at her Uncle's farm as a little girl.  Scientists say smells are the best triggers of memory, and the scent that Tammy encountered was exactly like the one in her Uncle's pigsty.It seemed Jose had fertilized the new grass before he left Friday.A few minutes later the couple arrived.  Tammy could see them reel back when the odor hit them, but they were too polite to comment.After introducing herself, Tammy said, “We're doing some work on the lawn.  It'll be finished long before your wedding.  It's a lovely place to take pictures with the brick church in the background.  But perhaps you'd rather head directly inside.”“Yes please,” the young bride said.As they walked up the path, they encountered Henry.  “Good morning, Pastor,” Tammy said.  “How are you?”“Allergies are acting up,” Henry grumbled in a nasal voice.  He turned to the couple and flashed a warm smile.  “And who have we here?”“These lovely people are looking for a church for their wedding,” Tammy explained, trying to edge around the pastor without stepping in the fragrant soil.“Fantastic!” Henry said.  “Let me tell you a little about what we do here…”  He then held the couple hostage for the next ten minutes.  Henry was not one to use only a few words, either, and apparently his allergies prevented him from smelling the fertilizer.  At one point Tammy thought the fumes might be causing her to hallucinate.  It appeared as though the young bride's face had a strange bluish tint.  Then she realized it was because the woman was holding her breath.Tammy was afraid the couple might be about to make a break for their car when Henry finally said, “Well, I've got to go get ready to preach.  I hope you'll stick around.”  They did not.Soon the rest of the congregation began to arrive.  Nobody dallied outside.  Unfortunately, the church provided little sanctuary from the stench.  The stealthy fumes had spent the last thirty-eight hours locating every tiny crack and gap to infiltrate the building.Tammy shifted uncomfortably in her regular pew, attempting to breathe through her mouth and distract herself by surreptitiously pinching her thigh.  It didn't work.Pastor O'Donnell was still unaware of the olfactory assault being perpetrated on his flock.  What he was aware of was the speed with which everyone moved through the service.  Even Donald East kept his speech under thirty seconds.Yet the service has already passed the hour mark when Henry stood to begin his sermon.  He glanced at Del, who was a member of the choir.  Del's head was bowed and he was rubbing his forehead with his right hand so Henry couldn't see his expression.Henry launched into his sermon.  He spoke passionately, his voice booming, his hands punctuating the air with dramatic gestures.  Halfway through he glanced over at Del and almost lost his place.  The man was crying!  Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes.  Henry knew his sermon was good but he'd never seen Del so moved.  Then Henry noticed that Del was not the only one with tears in his eyes.  It seemed half the congregation was similarly touched.  It spurred Henry to even greater heights of elocution.Tammy was one of the congregants whose eyes were watering, though it was not due to the sermon.  As the day had warmed up, the manure outside had grown even more fragrant.  It had taken on an almost physical quality, as though someone was spraying a mist of vinegar in her face.Henry was disappointed at how few people stayed for coffee hour after the service.  They had run almost forty minutes over, but he had hoped the impact of his words would encourage folks to linger.  He saw Del with his wife, Karen Winslow, the Sunday school teacher for the pre-kindergarten class known as the Guppies.  She'd brought the class up to the social hall to wait for their parents.  Henry decided to see what Del had to say.“Del was just telling me about your sermon,” Karen said as soon as Henry walked up.“Yes, it seemed to have quite an effect,” the pastor replied.  “I noticed Del was particularly moved.  I guess the right subject matter is worth a few extra minutes out of the week, eh?”Just then Jill Boyer arrived to pick up her daughter Mary.  “What took you so long?” Mary asked.  “It stinks in here.  Pee-Yoo!”“Yes,” Del told the child, “it seems there's an excess of fertilizer at the church today.”

Hear the story read by the author.In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Last week, the church made the police blotter in the Normal Star Times. The mention was brief, but it had taken investigating officers Glenn Johnson and Cindy Beaumont the better part of an hour to sort out exactly what had transpired.On the afternoon in question, Johnson watched as Beaumont poured water into the red, swollen eyes of the pastor, who was sitting on the church steps. Johnson skimmed back over the confusing jumble of notes on his pad with a sigh. The slim, stately woman in front of him looked to be in her mid fifties and was nervously fiddling with a button on her flower print cardigan. “Are you sure you don't want me to call the paramedics, Mrs. Billings?” he asked.“Oh no,” she said. “That's not necessary. It's just when you came into the office with your guns drawn it rather frightened me. I fainted, that's all. I'm very embarrassed.”“All right then. Why don't you tell me what happened. From the beginning, please.”“The beginning? Well, I guess the first thing you have to know is Pastor O'Donnell has been quite nervous about Dr. Walech's visit for over a week. See, Dr. Walech was his favorite professor at seminary, and the pastor wanted to make a good impression. That's why he asked me to keep an eye on Mary and Susie.”“Are you related to the girls?”“No, I'm the church secretary.”“They're the pastor's girls then.”“No. They belong to Jill Boyer.”“Her,” Johnson said, and pointed his pen at the young woman seated cross-legged on the lawn with the girls in question.“Yes,” Tammy Billings replied. “You see, she was working in the garden. The women's group takes turns and it was her week. She brought the girls along because her husband was playing golf or something.”“But it was the pastor who brought the girls to the office.”“Yes. Apparently Jill had given the girls colored chalk to draw on the sidewalk. Then Susie had to use the bathroom, so Jill took them inside. But Mary had gotten chalk all over her and I guess she kind of left a trail in the social hall. When the pastor saw that, he thought maybe it would be better if the girls colored with crayons in the office while Dr. Walech was here.”“Okay, I think I follow. But what does that have to do with the panic alert we received from your alarm system?”“Well, once Pastor O'Donnell and Dr. Walech began their tour of the grounds, I thought it would be safe to start copying the newsletter. But when I looked up, Mary was gone.”“Mrs. Billings, the panic button is for serious emergencies – violent break-ins, for example. You can't push it whenever a child wanders off.”“That's what I'm trying to explain. It wasn't me. It turned out Mary hadn't left the office at all. She was hiding under my desk. She saw the button under there and pushed it. It's all my fault. I should have known you don't dare take your eyes off that girl for a second.”Johnson looked over at the four-year-old in question. “She's just a child,” he said. “I'm sure she didn't mean any harm.”“You don't know her,” Billings said with a shudder.While Officer Johnson was interviewing Tammy Billings, Officer Cindy Beaumont examined the eyes of the chubby, middle-aged man who she now knew was Pastor Henry O'Donnell. “Are you feeling better, sir?” Officer Beaumont asked.The pastor blinked several times and squinted at the elderly gentleman who was admiring the flowers in the garden as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “My eyes are,” O'Donnell muttered.“Good,” Beaumont said. “Now, can you explain again why you were climbing out the window when we arrived?”“That man over there is Dr. Walech. He's the pastor of a big church in Philadelphia with all kinds of programs and mission work and even a radio station. He's had three books published and he teaches a legendary seminary class on semantics. I was so honored that he would come visit our little church, I just wanted everything to be perfect.”“And that somehow involves you exiting via the window.”“I was giving him a tour. While we were in the social hall, I happened to look out the window and saw that Mary had drawn that big picture of the devil on the sidewalk in colored chalk. It was frightening, really. Whatever else you can say about her, that girl has some artistic talent.”Beaumont glanced over at the drawing. It was impressively horrific. The eyes seemed to follow you wherever you stood.“Well, I didn't want Dr. Walech to see that,” O'Donnell continued, “I was worried he might think Mary was typical of the children in our Sunday school program. So I directed him to a display on the bulletin board and told him I needed to use the restroom. I climbed out the restroom window so I could hose off the sidewalk. But I kind of slipped and fell into the bushes. And that's when you saw me.”“So why didn't you just identify yourself and explain all that? Why did you come running out of the bushes waving your arms?”“There was a spider in there…” the pastor said, his cheeks reddening to match his eyes.“That wasn't very smart, pastor. You could have been shot.”“I know,” O'Donnell mumbled. “Thank you for only using the pepper spray.”Officers Beaumont and Johnson got together to compare notes. Clearly this was all just a big misunderstanding, but it seemed hard to believe such a little girl could have caused so much chaos. So they decided to talk to Mary to confirm the story.“I'm sorry I pushed the button,” Mary said, tiny, adorable tears gathering on her eyelashes. “I just wanted to find out what it did.”“Well now you know,” Johnson said with mock sternness. “And you won't do it again, will you?”“No. I promise.”“Why did you draw a picture of the devil on the sidewalk?” Beaumont asked.“Oh, that's from a funny movie I saw last night. I woke up and I was thirsty and when I came downstairs for some water, my Daddy was asleep in the reclimber chair and I saw that red man with the horns on the TV. I thought he was really cool so I stayed and watched.”Johnson stifled a laugh.“Can I go play now?” Mary asked.“Sure,” Beaumont said. “But why don't you draw something a little happier this time. Like a rainbow.”“Rainbows are boring,” Mary scoffed as she skipped away.The two police officers gathered the others together. “Okay,” Johnson said, “obviously this was a false alarm. And I have to say, I'm a little embarrassed for all of you. You're adults. You shouldn't be passing the blame onto that sweet little—”Johnson's lecture was interrupted by the earsplitting wail of a siren very close behind him. After making sure he hadn't soiled himself, he turned around to discover Mary Boyer behind the wheel of his police cruiser pretending to drive. He grabbed the door handle, but Mary had apparently locked the doors. Johnson pounded on the window to get her attention, but the little girl couldn't hear him over the noise.As O'Donnell watched this newest bit of chaos forlornly, Dr. Walech put a hand on his shoulder. “I know just how you feel,” Walech said. “We have a little boy at our church named James Mendelsen…”

Welcome to the 100th Little Church Story!  Hope you've enjoyed them as much as I have.Hear the story read by the author.In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell has been driving the same car for seven years. His teenage daughter, Katie, often bugs him to get a new one, usually when he's dropping her off somewhere in front of her friends. And Henry always responds by lecturing Katie on the value of a dollar saved.Henry's father would have been proud of him. The old man was a child of the Great Depression and had worked hard to instill a sense of thriftiness in Henry and his siblings. Henry's father would not have been so proud of Henry's carelessness in maintaining the old vehicle. Henry just couldn't seem to keep track of when it was time to change the car's oil. The consequences of this lack of diligence arrived last Tuesday when the engine seized up as Henry was pulling into the church parking lot.One advantage of being a pastor, however, was that members of the congregation often stepped in to assist in such situations. Upon learning about Henry's problem, head usher Ralph Billings referred him to his mechanic buddy, Stan Pike. “I'll talk to Stan and get you a discount,” Ralph assured Henry.So Henry had the car towed to Stan's shop. Stan was a short, thick man who continually rubbed his greasy hands on an even greasier rag. Stan's analysis of the car was not good. The engine would have to be completely replaced. “But I'll tell you what,” Stan said, “I'll do the job for cost.”“Really?” Henry asked. “That's very generous.”“Always glad to help a man of the cloth. Figure it'll make up some for me never getting to church on Sundays. My poor, sick Mama can't really be left alone, and Sunday is the nurse's day off, so I have to stay with her.”“I'm sure God understands,” Henry said. “But I do appreciate the discount. How long will it take?”“Not long once I get the parts. Maybe two days,” Stan said.“Great,” Henry replied. Even with the discount, the repair was going to take a hefty bite out of his savings account. For two days he was sure he could find people to give him rides, and that way he wouldn't have to rent a car.Once again, Ralph came to his rescue. Ralph's wife, Tammy, was the church secretary and Ralph typically drove her to and from work every day. It wasn't much out of their way to pick up Henry.Wednesday the arrangement worked beautifully. But when they got to the office Thursday morning, Tammy discovered a message on the voicemail from Carrie Winslow. It seemed her mother, Karen, was in the hospital. Karen was in remission from leukemia and had begun feeling ill. They were worried she might be relapsing. Fortunately, Ralph had time to take Henry over to the hospital to sit with the Winslows.Even better, it turned out Karen had simply come down with a case of the flu. As Ralph drove Henry back to the church, Henry noticed that it was almost 2 p.m. and he still hadn't had lunch. He suggested they swing by a fast food drive through.Ralph was aghast. “You know how bad that fast food is for you?” he exclaimed. “Why it's chock full of sodium and saturated fats and cholesterol. You know what frying potatoes does to them? It makes them carcinogenic!”“But I'm hungry and I don't have time for a real meal,” Henry protested.“I'll drop you off at the church and then go get you a healthy organic salad,” Ralph said as they whizzed past the fast food restaurant. Henry looked longingly back at the colorful pictures of chicken wings and soda on the windows.As Henry was picking at the salad in his office, he called Stan Pike to see if his car was ready. “Taking a little longer than I expected,” Stan told him. “But as the Bible says, ‘patience is a virtue.'” Henry knew that proverb didn't actually come from the Bible, but didn't bother to correct the man. “Just be a couple more days,” Stan said. “Give me a call Monday.”On Friday, Henry's wife informed him that she had to work late and asked if he could get his own supper. Henry assured her he could. He knew just what he wanted: a rack of baby backs from Big Tommy's Rib Shack. But then he remembered that Ralph would be driving him home. He suspected Ralph might object to a stop at Big Tommy's.Henry decided perhaps he ought to make a follow up call to the Winslows. Carrie answered. “Mom's fine,” she said. “She's taking a nap right now so I don't want to wake her, but I know she's grateful you came out to the hospital yesterday. Sorry if we wasted your time.”“Not at all,” Henry said. “But you should thank Ralph Billings, too. He's been driving me around while my car is in the shop. I'm afraid I've been taking advantage of his good nature. And I'm going to have to impose again tonight because the repair is taking longer than expected.”“I could give you a ride home tonight,” Carrie said.Henry smiled. “Oh, that would be great. And if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind stopping by Big Tommy's so I can pick up some dinner?”“My pleasure,” Carrie replied.Henry was packing up his briefcase at the end of the day when he heard what sounded like a bunch of sirens in the distance. As they got closer, he wondered if a nearby building was on fire. They continued to get even closer. It almost sounded like they were right outside in the front office. Henry peeked out to see what was going on.What he mistook for sirens were actually the cries of Carrie's baby boy, Scott. “He's teething,” Carrie shouted over the wailing. “I decided to get him out of the house so my Mom could rest. He usually falls asleep in the car.”Scott did not fall asleep in the car this time.Fortunately they arrived at Big Tommy's in record time, helped by several cars pulling over to let them pass, apparently having mistaken them for some kind of emergency vehicle. Henry wasn't sure the ribs would be worth his temporary hearing loss, but once he was inside Big Tommy's, the smell of barbecue revitalized him.When Carrie dropped him off, she asked if he might need any rides in the future. “No thank you,” Henry shouted. He had a meeting across town on Tuesday but Stan had said his car would be ready by then.Unfortunately, when he called Stan on Monday he got more bad news. “See, since I'm not charging you for labor, I was gonna do the work myself instead of giving it to one of my guys,” Stan explained. “We got busy Friday so I was gonna come in on Saturday. But my poor Mama took a turn and we had to spend the day at the urgent care. She's fine now, God bless her.”“Perfectly understandable,” Henry said.“Give me a couple more days,” Stan told him.That meant Henry needed a ride to his meeting. Since it ended at noon and he would have to get lunch after, he ruled out Ralph. Henry just didn't think salad qualified as a meal. And since Scott would not likely be done teething yet, he ruled out Carrie.Missy Moore saved him when she swung by the church to pick up a sweater she'd forgotten Sunday morning. When she asked Henry how he was doing, he couldn't help unloading to her about his transportation tribulations. “I could give you a ride tomorrow,” Missy said.Henry thanked her and promised to buy her lunch at a nearby burger joint in return. “I love that place!” Missy exclaimed. Henry grinned.The next day Missy was right on time. Henry slid into the passenger seat once she moved a stack of papers and fast food wrappers to the back. Missy started the car and Henry almost jumped through the windshield as a blast of heavy metal music exploded from the speakers.“This is a great song!” Missy exclaimed and began singing along as she screeched out of the parking lot, narrowly missing a passing car. Two minutes later Missy turned the music down. But only because she got a call on her cell phone. Perhaps some people are actually capable of driving safely while talking on the phone, but Missy was not one of them. By the time they reached the meeting, Henry was trembling so badly he could barely walk. The ride back was even worse.On Wednesday Henry called Stan again. “Ran into a little trouble,” Stan began.“How much longer?” Henry sighed.“Couple days. Patience is a virtue.” Henry buried his head in his arms so Tammy wouldn't hear him weep.Ten days later Henry's car was finally ready. As he wrote out a check, Henry wavered between wanting to kiss Stan and wanting to punch him in the face.Henry's first stop after leaving the garage was a fast food drive through. As he was pulling away, he accidentally squeezed his soda cup a little too hard. Apparently the kid working the window hadn't fully secured the top, because it popped off and icy cola splattered onto Henry's lap. He jumped, jerking the wheel involuntarily. The car hopped the curb and hit a tree.Henry didn't tell anyone about the mishap. Not because he was embarrassed, but because he was afraid they'd get him a discount with their mechanic. He took the car to a garage he'd never heard of and agreed to pay full price. “How long will it take,” Henry asked.“Couple days,” the mechanic replied.

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.  The choir director, Shane Reed, is dating Audra Park, a young, single mother and member of the choir.  One recent Friday Shane went to pick her up for a date.  When she answered the door, she was laughing so hard tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes.“Is it the shirt?” Shane asked.  He had bought his shirt a week before after being encouraged by a perky salesgirl, but he had suspected her compliments might not have been entirely genuine.“What?  No,” Audra said.  “Look.”  She gestured into the apartment.  Her six-year-old son Tyler was singing a classic rock song into a microphone as his babysitter, Katie O'Donnell, accompanied him on a plastic guitar.  Tyler mimicked the rock star gyrations of animated musicians on the TV.  “It's a video game,” Audra said, observing Shane's confused expression.“Tyler's got a good voice,” Shane mused.  It wasn't surprising – Audra was one of the best vocalists in the choir.  Clearly the apple had landed near the tree.“Yeah,” Audra agreed.  “And some pretty impressive dance moves.  Shall we go?”Shane thought about Tyler's voice on the drive to the restaurant.  He'd been looking for a way to bond with the boy since he and Audra started dating.  Over dessert he asked, “Do you think Tyler would be interested in joining a children's choir?”“I think that's a great idea,” Audra said.  She'd also been looking for a way for her son and boyfriend to get closer.Shane announced the children's choir during the next church service, noting that he had posted a sign-up sheet for kids between the ages of four and twelve in the hall by the Sunday school rooms.  Audra added Tyler's name as soon as service was over.  Tyler couldn't understand why he would want to go to choir practice when there were perfectly good video games to be played at home, but being six he was forced to accede to his mom's wishes.Jill Boyer had not planned to sign her four-year-old daughter Mary up for the choir even though she was just inside the lower end of the age range.  Mary didn't usually respond well to the “organized” part of organized activities.  But when Jill retrieved Mary from Sunday school, they passed Mary's classmate Sierra and her father, Arthur, by the sign-up sheet.“Would you like to be in a children's choir?” Arthur was asking Sierra.“Oh, yes, Daddy!” Sierra shouted, jumping up and down and clapping her hands with glee.  Arthur wrote her name below Tyler's.Mary saw this and asked, “Can I be in the choir, too?”“It'll be a great experience,” Arthur said as Jill considered her response.  “Sierra has a beautiful voice.  I know most children this age can't really carry a tune, but I suspect Sierra might have perfect pitch.  I've been thinking I should get her a voice coach.  She could probably be a professional singer.”Mary was tugging on Jill's pant leg.  “Please, Mommy, can I be in the choir? Please, please, please, please…”“Sure,” Jill said and snatched the pen from Arthur.  “I've always suspected you had perfect pitch, too.”Of course Jill suspected no such thing.  But according to Arthur, Sierra was the most glorious little human being with whom God had blessed the world since the times of Jesus.  It got on Jill's nerves.Shane decided Easter would be a good opportunity for the children's choir to make their debut.  He planned to have them sing that classic children's Easter hymn, Morning Has Broken. Shane had never conducted a children's choir but he figured he could handle it.  After all, many of the adult choir members often behaved like children.  Sure, Arthur lobbied him to give Sierra a solo, but hardly an adult choir rehearsal went by without someone complaining about Shane's choice of soloist.  And Arthur was easier to handle since Shane simply declared that there would be no solos in the children's choir.Of course none of the adult choir members had ever spilled juice on the sheet music, or broken into tears after skinning their knee, or started an eraser fight.  Mary did all of that in the first fifteen minutes of rehearsal.  Shane had arranged the kids by height, the older and tallest kids in the middle of the back row, and the younger, shorter kids in the front row and to the sides.  Mary, being one of the shortest, was on the far left.  However, after the eraser fight, Shane decided to move her to the center.  He enlisted the girl directly behind her, twelve-year-old Becky Goodhart, to help keep Mary in line.  Shane's plan worked for rehearsal, but was to have unintended consequences for the performance.Unlike Mary, Tyler was quite well behaved all through rehearsal.  Which meant that by the time Audra arrived to pick him up, Shane realized he'd barely spoken to the boy.  His plan for bonding was not working out as he'd hoped.On Easter morning, Mary talked excitedly about the impending performance all through breakfast.  Jill may have signed Mary up out of annoyance with Arthur, but now she was delighted by her daughter's enthusiasm and commitment. After a thirty minute search, she located the family's camcorder in Mary's room where she had been using it to film a movie with her dolls.  Jill scraped a wad of gum off the camera and slipped it into her purse.  Maybe she would finally get some video of Mary that she could show the grandparents without having to edit out the embarrassing parts.Arthur also planned to videotape Sierra.  This was no surprise to anyone.  Sierra's short life to date was one of the most documented in the history of mankind.  Carefully labeled DVDs of Sierra occupied a whole shelf of the living room bookcase.  As the kids marched out to take their place for their performance, Arthur set up a tripod in the center aisle.Jill had taken a spot on the opposite side of the aisle.  She hadn't brought along a tripod, but she steadied her camera on the back of the pew in front of her.  A bit of gum she'd missed helped hold it in place.  And to her delight, Mary's central position gave her a nice, unobstructed shot.Sierra's position at the far edge of the choir did not offer such a clear shot to Arthur.  He wondered what Shane was thinking putting the most talented vocalist off to the side like that.  “Sierra,” he hissed as the kids were lining up.  She looked over and he gestured for her to move toward the center.Shane had not seen Arthur's gesture and did not know why Sierra was leaving her assigned spot.  “Sierra,” he whispered, “get back to your place.”  Sierra returned to the edge of the choir.  Shane signaled organist Walter Tibble to begin.Arthur glared at Shane's back.  The man was clearly an idiot unqualified to lead a choir of dogs.  He motioned urgently for Sierra to move back toward the center.  Sierra was a little confused by the contradictory messages, but she obeyed her father's latest instruction.  Shane tried to motion her back again, but the little girl's gaze was fixed on her father.Meanwhile, Jill had zoomed in for a close-up of Mary.  Her daughter looked like an angel.  This was uncommon – usually Mary seemed to represent the other team in the divine rivalry.  Suddenly, a carefully coifed head of hair topped by a pink bow filled the viewfinder.Jill zoomed out.  Sierra had come to a stop directly in front of Mary.  Jill waved to get Mary's attention.  Mary waved back.  Jill motioned for her to step out from behind Sierra.  Mary tried to obey, but Becky, ever alert to her mission, pulled Mary back into place.Jill looked over at Arthur and hissed, “Would you please get your daughter to go back to her spot?”“But I can't see her way over there,” Arthur whispered back.“Well, I can't see Mary over your daughter's head,” Jill replied.“Then maybe your daughter should move,” Arthur snapped.“Maybe your daughter should learn to cooperate with others,” Jill shot back.“Mommy, shh!” Mary shouted from the front.  “We're singing.”The congregation laughed.  Jill flushed with embarrassment.  Arthur gloated until Shane took Sierra's arm and guided her back to her proper place.The children finished their song without further incident.  As they walked off, Sierra and Mary held hands.  Jill was proud to show the video of the performance to the grandparents, but only after editing out the part where Mary had shushed her.After service was over, Shane noticed Tyler going up to the youth group room.  He followed and found Tyler playing a football game on the youth group's video game system.  “Can I play, too?” Shane asked.“Sure,” Tyler said.  They spent the next hour bonding.  When the game was over, Shane was quite happy, even though he lost seventy-three to fourteen.

Listen to 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 most churches, this one has coffee hour every Sunday after service.  The various church groups rotate responsibility for hosting.  Some, like the women's group, bring elaborate homemade treats.  Others, like the young parents, put out a more humble spread of store bought snacks.  Most of the congregation barely notices as long as the coffee is hot and strong.  But when the men's group hosted recently, their refreshments had unintended consequences.Ralph Billings got blamed for the trouble.  Ralph considered himself a health food advocate.  Many in the congregation preferred the term “health nut.”  Whenever a group he was part of was scheduled to host coffee hour, Ralph would loudly lobby everyone to bring nutritional snacks.  Usually he was ignored.  Ralph would bring a heaping platter of fruits and vegetables, most of which would remain uneaten while the cookies, donuts and coffee cake others brought were reduced to plates of crumbs.  This bothered Ralph.  So when the men's group came up in the host rotation a few weeks ago, he hatched a plan to change things.Choir director Shane Reed, also an active member of the men's group, had his own agenda for coffee hours. Most of the men in the group brought store bought items if they brought anything.  Shane liked to bring something special that would surprise and delight people.This time he decided to bring something themed toward St. Patrick's Day, which was a few days earlier.  He found a recipe for chocolate mint cheesecake online.  It even had instructions for creating a green shamrock decoration on the top.  Shane was an excellent cook.  He wasn't stingy either – he made two cheesecakes so nobody would be left out.When Shane unveiled his creation to the other men while they were setting up before service, everyone oohed and ahhed jealously.  Ralph seemed to be most interested, questioning Shane at length about the recipe.  Then Ralph went away briefly and returned with an index card on which he'd written, “Chocolate Mint Cheesecake – 650 calories and 25g saturated fat per slice.”  He stuck it next to the cheesecakes.“What's this?” Shane asked.“The nutritional information for your lovely desert,” Ralph said.  “I think it's helpful that people know what they're eating, don't you?”Shane couldn't really think of a good objection, though he tried hard.  As other people put out their snacks, Ralph noted the nutritional content of each on an index card.  He got the information either from the packaging of store bought items or by consulting a big book of food statistics.  Of course Ralph's plate of carrot sticks, celery and grapes fared best.When the congregation poured into the social hall after the service, Missy Moore was one of the first in line.  “Your cheesecake looks gorgeous,” she told Shane.“You'll have to let me know how it tastes,” he said.“Oh, I can't,” Missy replied.  “Have to watch my waistline, you know.”  She then piled a plate high with carrot sticks and crackers.Jill Boyer herded her daughters Mary, age four, and Susie, age two, into the refreshment line.  When Mary saw the cheesecake, her eyes got big and she reached out to swipe a finger through the shamrock decoration.  Jill grabbed her hand and said, “Mary, don't.  I'll get you some.”Four year-old Sierra Smith and her father Arthur were in line behind them.  “May I have some cake?” Sierra asked.  Arthur looked at the index card.  “I'm sorry, honey.  It's not good for you.  Have some grapes.”Jill's face reddened.  Arthur had this strange ability to continually make her feel like a bad parent.  But she had already cut a piece and couldn't very well deny her girls at this point without inducing a nuclear level tantrum.  So she cut the slice in half and split it between two plates.  She then piled carrots onto the plates and instructed the girls to eat the vegetables before the cheesecake.  They did not follow her instructions, but by then Arthur and Sierra had moved on so it didn't really matter.One person who didn't care about the nutritional content of the cheesecake was Pastor Henry O'Donnell.  Unfortunately his wife Jennifer was not so blasé.  Henry was positioning the knife to cut a nice big slice when she cleared her throat behind him.  “Remember your diet,” she said.  Henry sighed and moved the knife over an inch.  Jennifer cleared her throat again.  Henry slid the knife over even further.  The wafer of cheesecake was so thin it fell apart as he lifted it onto a plate.“Whose brilliant idea was it to set out those index cards?” Henry grumbled.“Mine,” Ralph said proudly.  He happened to be standing near the end of the table.  “Isn't it great?  I'm going to do the same thing with the women's group bake sale next week.”As word of this pronouncement spread, it was not well received.  The women's group bake sale was among the church's biggest mission fundraisers of the year.  With coffee hour winding down, everyone took note of how Shane's cheesecakes remained mostly uneaten while Ralph's vegetables were completely gone.  Obviously Ralph had succeeded in his goal.  Knowledge was power.An informal huddle of the women's group convened in a corner of the social hall.  There was some question as to whether Ralph had the authority to stick his nose into the bake sale.  This was countered, however, by the concern that if they tried to stop him it would look like they were hiding something.“I guess we'd better make healthy items this year,” Missy said.  “People don't want fattening deserts anymore.  Just look at the refreshment table.”Seventy-year-old Henrietta Miggins, president of the women's group, harrumphed. “We'll see,” she growled.  She had nothing against nutrition but she was not about to let Ralph Billings control her.  She went to get a nice big slice of cheesecake to prove her point.The next week Henrietta was not present when the women were setting up for the bake sale.  This caused considerable concern.  It was unlike Henrietta to shirk her responsibilities.  Someone was even dispatched to her house to make sure she was all right, but there was no sign of her.After service, the congregation perused the selection of bran muffins, sugarless oatmeal cookies and low fat brownies the women had made.  Ralph was true to his word, calculating the calories and fat in each item based on the ingredients.  The results indicated that everything was indeed quite healthy, though it's possible a few of the bakers may have fudged the amounts of butter or sugar used – inadvertently, of course.Sales, however, were slow.  Jill's whole wheat pineapple cake just didn't draw the enthusiasm of the double chocolate peanut butter brownies she'd brought last year.Missy, who was manning the cash register, muttered, “This is a disaster.”“Must be the economy,” Ralph observed.“Looks like Henrietta was right,” Jill sighed.  “People do prefer the unhealthy baked goods.”Ralph decided he better do something if he wanted the nutritional information to become a regular feature of church events.  He wandered along the table loudly admiring all the items.  He stopped at Missy's vegan pumpkin cookies.“Only seventy-five calories each and no fat!” he exclaimed.  “And they look so good.  I'll take ‘em.”  As soon as he'd paid, he pulled back the plastic wrap and popped a cookie in his mouth.“Mmmmm…” he said as he chewed.  “Delicious.”  He smiled, but there were suspicious tears forming in the corners of his eyes.  He swallowed.  “So good I'm going to save the rest for later.”Then Henrietta arrived carrying a large box.“Where were you?” Missy asked.  “We were worried.”Henrietta didn't answer.  Instead, she opened the box and took out six apple tarts, twice the number she usually brought for the bake sale.“What's in those,” Ralph asked.  “I need to calculate the nutritional information.”“This is a secret family recipe,” Henrietta huffed. “But all the items for sale have their nutritional information listed,” Ralph protested.“These won't,” Henrietta said.There was a murmur of excitement among the gathered crowd.  Missy asked, “How much are we charging for them?”“That depends,” Henrietta replied.  “This year I think I'll auction them to the highest bidder.”That proved a brilliant move.  All the tarts went for many times their usual price.  Pastor O'Donnell paid the most – $105.00 for a single tart.  It was for a good cause, he reasoned.  In the end, the women's group raised more total money with this year's bake sale than ever before.The following Sunday the young adult bible study hosted coffee hour.  There was no nutritional information provided.  Ralph was not part of the bible study and besides, after the bake sale he had been unable to find his nutrition book.Shane Reed was part of the bible study and he brought homemade fudge.  It was gone in twenty minutes.  Pastor O'Donnell had twelve pieces.  Shane was glad there were no leftovers.  He still had an entire cheesecake in his freezer.A note to my readers:  I have traditionally published a Little Church Story on this blog every two weeks.  From this point forward I am reducing my blog publication schedule to once a month.  This is in order for me to spend more time on other Little Church projects like The Christmas Tree Lot book.  Thank you for your support for The Little Church Stories!

Hear the story read by the author.(This is part two of two.  To read part I click here or scroll down)In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm.  This year the church decided to have a Valentine's Day dance – but not everyone present was excited to be there. Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell's daughter Katie had agreed to do childcare, but only because her boyfriend, Alex, had dumped her a couple days earlier, killing her Valentine's Day plans.  And Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum's boyfriend, Ian, was performing at the dance with his jazz band.  This meant that Michelle and Ian had had to eat their Valentine's Day dinner early and skip desert.  Not Michelle's idea of a romantic holiday.Michelle sat at a table with the girls who were dating the other members of Ian's band.  They complained about the lack of alcohol at the church event while Michelle sulked and watched the couples dancing.  She was surprised to discover choir director Shane Reed was an excellent swing dancer.  He and his girlfriend Audra Park spun around the floor making everyone else look bad.  Michelle thought Ian was pretty sexy when he performed, but at the moment she was feeling a little jealous of Audra.Meanwhile, down in the Sunday school room, Katie listened to sad songs on her MP3 player while the kids built a makeshift city out of blocks.  The Boyer sisters, Mary, age four, and Susie, age two, were there, as was Sierra Smith, another four-year-old from Mary's Sunday school class.  Audra's son Tyler was the only boy present if you didn't count the baby, Scott Lopez, who was asleep in a crib.  After a while, Mary looked up from the tower she was building and noticed tears running down Katie's cheeks.  Mary nudged Sierra.  They weren't used to seeing someone Katie's age cry.  The two girls went over to investigate.“Why are you sad?” Mary asked.“Because boys are all big, lying jerks,” Katie said.“I don't like boys either,” Mary agreed.“Good,” Katie replied.  “All they ever do is make you cry.”  Then she put her head down on the desk, turned up her music, and moaned miserably.Mary and Sierra were not quite sure how to react.  Tyler came over to see what was going on.“Go away, Tyler,” Sierra said.  “You're a boy and all boys are lying jerks.”“Take that back!” Tyler replied angrily.“Get out of here,” Mary said.  “You'll make Katie cry even worse.”Tyler was not sure how he'd gotten blamed for Katie's weeping, but he wasn't about to let two younger girls tell him what to do.  “Make me,” he said.Mary and Sierra immediately pounced on him.  Two-year-old Susie didn't know what was going on, but joined in the beating out of an innate sense of feminist sisterhood and a love of hitting things.  Tyler decided maybe letting the girls tell him what to do was better than having to admit they'd beaten him up.  He dashed out of the room with the three females chasing behind.Katie looked up just in time to see her charges escaping.  “Come back,” she shouted, but to no avail.  She quickly scooped the baby out of the crib and took off in pursuit.  Scott was not pleased to have his slumber disturbed.  He expressed his displeasure in loud wails.Up in the social hall, Shane and Audra were taking a break from their energetic dancing.  They got some refreshments and sat at the table next to Michelle's.  The band switched to a slow, romantic ballad.  Michelle watched all the couples dancing close and whispering to each other and felt her jealously like a knife in her heart.  It was Valentine's Day.  She should be dancing cheek to cheek with Ian, not sitting at a table with a bunch of whiny groupies.  She heard Shane ask Audra if she was ready to dance again.  “I need a few more minutes,” Audra laughed.  “You wore me out!”Michelle leaned over and asked, “If you need a break, do you think I could borrow Shane for a song?”Audra shrugged and nodded.  Michelle took Shane's hand and led him out to a spot directly in front of the band.  Shane put his hands on Michelle's waist.  She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close.  Shane's eyes widened in surprise as she pressed herself against him.Michelle snuck a peek at Ian.  He was staring at them with a troubled frown on his face.  Michelle leaned her head on Shane's shoulder to hide her satisfied smile.  She had finally gotten his attention.Shane had noticed Ian's troubled look as well.  And he'd noticed an equally troubled look on Audra's face.  But he didn't quite know what to do.  So he made sure to keep his hands nice and high on Michelle's back and tried not to look like he was enjoying himself.When the song ended, Ian grabbed the microphone and said, “Let's pick up the pace a bit.”  He instructed the band to play an upbeat Dixieland number.“Well, thanks for the dance,” Shane said to Michelle.“Aw, come on, one more,” Michelle replied.  As the band launched into their jaunty tune, she began bumping and grinding around him.  Shane tried to dance in a casual, disinterested way, but he had to admit Michelle had some pretty hot moves.Now more than just Ian and Audra were watching them.  Most of the congregation were not used to seeing one of their pastors behaving in such a manner.  Pastor O'Donnell knew Michelle was courting trouble and was about to intervene when the gaggle of kids burst through the door like a tornado.Tyler ducked under the refreshment table and out the other side.  Mary, Sierra and Susie followed in hot pursuit.  But somehow Mary caught the edge of the tablecloth on her barrette.  This upset the punch bowl, and punch sloshed across the floor.  Michelle had just completed a little spin.  She stepped back and slipped in the liquid, falling hard on her rear.The sight was so unexpected everyone burst out laughing in spite of themselves. Everyone, that is, except Ian.  He leapt down from the stage and ran to Michelle.“Are you okay?” he asked.Michelle looked down at her white dress now stained red with punch and cried “No!”  She scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room.“Go after her,” Shane said, giving Ian a nudge.  Ian took the advice.Baby Scott's wail announced Katie's arrival.  She looked at the aftermath of the disaster and her heart sank.  But everyone turned out to be quite sympathetic, especially the parents of the kids in question, who generally expected them to cause trouble.  They assisted Katie in rounding up the children while Shane found a mop to clean up the spill.Out in the hall Ian was trying to understand Michelle through her sobs.  He finally made out that she was disappointed they hadn't spent more time together that evening.  There was also something in there about chocolate cake.  Ian thought he understood.“Do you know why I didn't want to order desert at the restaurant?” he asked.“Because (sob) you needed to (sniff) set up your gear.”“No,” Ian said, “that was just an excuse.  I spent all day making a chocolate raspberry cheesecake.  I was going to take you back to my place after the dance and surprise you with it.”Michelle stopped crying.  “You cooked for me?”“Yeah.  It's probably not as good as that cake at the restaurant, but since I spent…” Ian had to table his thought as Michelle planted a big kiss on his mouth. When Katie marched her charges back down to the Sunday school room, she got a surprise of her own.  Alex was waiting for her.  “Can we talk?” he asked.Katie put the baby in the crib and told the other kids, “Do not leave this room under any circumstances.  Do you understand?”Mary, Sierra, Tyler and Susie returned to their toys while Alex and Katie spoke in urgent whispers in the hall.  After a while, Mary noticed the whispers had stopped.  She remembered that Katie had ordered her not to leave the room, but surely poking her head out the door wouldn't count.What she saw in the hall shocked her.  Katie was kissing Alex!  “I thought you said boys were lying jerks,” Mary blurted.Katie laughed.  “Maybe, but they're also pretty nice to kiss.”Mary returned to the classroom pondering this new piece of information.  She looked at Tyler who was racing some cars down the streets of the block city they'd built.  He didn't look like he would be all that great to kiss.  But Katie was older.  Maybe she knew what she was talking about.Thirty seconds later Tyler came barreling out of the room again, pursued by the three little girls.  He darted past Katie and Alex, up the stairs, and nearly knocked over Michelle and Ian who were making out in the hall.“Girls are crazy!” Tyler yelled.“Sure are,” Ian agreed.

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…

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.

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.

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.

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 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!  

Hear the story read by the author. In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm.  One Sunday every year is designated Laity Sunday when the members of the congregation run the worship service.  The clergy do not get the day off, however.  Traditionally they make luncheon for the congregation as a gesture of gratitude.This year, Del Winslow was in charge of Laity Sunday.  Del had a personal agenda for the day.  He wanted to have a tight, efficient service that ended in exactly one hour.  Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell's services typically ran long by ten or fifteen minutes.  Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum was only slightly better.  Such overages annoyed Del greatly. In fact, he would have gotten up and walked out at the hour mark if he wasn't a member of the choir.  So Del wanted to demonstrate to pastors O'Donnell and Tellum how a properly run worship service should go.Del convened a meeting of Laity Sunday volunteers two weeks in advance for the purposes of assigning parts of the service.  Thad Wheeling was assigned the welcome and benediction.  Church secretary Tammy Billings agreed to do the invocation and call to worship.The trouble started when Del asked for volunteers for the pastoral prayer.  Missy Moore, an enthusiastic, heavyset woman had been sitting quietly in back, but now her hand shot into the air.  Del was not a fan of the way Missy tended to babble on endlessly in conversation.  He dreaded what might happen if he gave her free reign at the microphone.Del turned to his thirty-year-old daughter, Carrie.  “Carrie, why don't you do the prayer?”Carrie seemed startled.  “I don't know,” she said.  “Do I have to make it up myself?”“Well, yeah,” Del replied.“I was hoping I could just read the scripture or something,” Carrie said.“Come on, I know you'll do great.”“Okay,” Carrie muttered, not nearly so sure.  In the back, Missy put her hand back in her lap with a frown.  She had really wanted to do the prayer because she felt moved to express her gratitude for her church family and thought a group prayer would be the perfect opportunity.The choir did the hymns and anthem as normal on Laity Sunday, but Del needed someone for special music.  Pastor Michelle's boyfriend Ian Wells got that assignment.  Michelle wanted Ian to participate but Ian wasn't fond of public speaking.  However he did play guitar in a jazz ensemble so special music was right up his alley.Tammy's husband Ralph volunteered to read the announcements.  Missy again raised her hand to do the Offertory figuring she could use the Prayer of Dedication to express her gratitude, but Del assigned those jobs to Jill Boyer.  Next Del called for a volunteer to read scripture.  “Missy, how about you?” he asked.Missy was startled.  She hadn't raised her hand this time.  “What else is left?” she asked.“Just the sermon,” Del said, “and I'm doing that.”“Fine,” Missy grumbled.Meanwhile, Pastor Michelle was also out to prove something.  It always annoyed her that food at church events tended toward the cheap and unsophisticated.  She fancied herself a bit of a foodie and wanted to demonstrate a more gourmet approach.  Of course she also had to feed a hundred people without much help, so she needed to keep things simple.  She settled on a spicy seared scallop salad.Pastor O'Donnell was a little skeptical when she told him, but didn't want to crush her enthusiasm.  He was planning to make bagel pizzas for his contribution.  Michelle smiled indulgently.  They would probably make the kids happy, she figured.Michelle wanted to get the scallops as fresh as she could so she arranged to buy them on the way to the church the morning of the service.  However when she arrived the seafood store did not have as many fresh scallops as she wanted.  Michelle began to panic.  Fortunately Ian was with her to calm her down.  He suggested they swing by the grocery store to pick up some frozen scallops.  Michelle was disappointed by the compromise but didn't see any other option.The only downside was that Ian would miss the walk-through Del had scheduled prior to the service.  It didn't seem like a big deal to Ian, but at the church Del was annoyed.  To make matters worse, Ralph had caught a bad cold a couple days before and coughed constantly through the rehearsal.Del was just about to cut special music out of the program entirely when Ian and Michelle arrived.  Michelle went to the kitchen to begin preparing her salad while Ian sauntered into the sanctuary.Del wanted to give the tardy youngster a piece of his mind, but it was a mere five minutes until the service was scheduled to start and he wanted to begin on time even more. So he simply ordered Ian to get to his seat and then gave Thad his cue to welcome the congregation.After the opening hymn Tammy delivered the Invocation and Call to Worship without a hitch.  By the end of the second hymn the service was running two minutes ahead of schedule according to Del's calculations.  That's when the first hiccup occurred.Carrie stepped up to the lectern to deliver the pastoral prayer.  She had written it out on a piece of paper, revising it through half a dozen drafts during the week.  She pulled the paper out of her pocket with shaky hands, only to drop it.  It floated down over the railing and into the third pew.  Del tapped his foot impatiently as Tammy scrambled down to retrieve the paper.  Well, it was only a small delay.  They could make up the time.Carrie managed to get through the prayer without vomiting which she considered quite an achievement.  Next came the special music.  Ian got his guitar and pulled a microphone out to the center of the chancel.  However when he tried to introduce the song he discovered the microphone wasn't working.  He verified that it was turned on then began tracing the cord to see that everything was plugged in.  Organist Walter Tibble came over to help.  “Just get a different microphone,” Del finally snapped, a little louder than he intended.  “This is why we rehearsed,” he muttered under his breath.Ian's song was wonderful but Del didn't hear it.  He was busy editing his sermon to make up for the lost time.  Then came the announcements.  Ralph stepped up to the microphone and began to speak.  No sound came out.At first Del thought Ralph was using the broken microphone.  But when Ralph coughed and it was amplified over the speakers it became clear the microphone was not the problem.  Ralph had lost his voice.  Del strode out and took over.  He didn't have time for any more delays.Then real disaster struck.  As Del was moving back to his spot, he tripped on the microphone cord.  His glasses fell off and by an unfortunate coincidence Del's left knee landed right on top of them.  He heard the lenses crunch and began to feel sick to his stomach.  Without his glasses he wouldn't be able to read his notes for the sermon.Fortunately Jill managed the offertory without any problems but when Missy went to the lectern to do the scripture reading, she started by saying, “before I begin, I'd like to take a moment to express my gratitude for this church…”Del felt his blood begin to boil.  He coughed pointedly but Missy ignored him.  She went on for ten minutes determined to deliver the message she would have done had she been given the opportunity to lead a prayer.  By the time she got around to reading the scripture, the service had been going for fifty-eight minutes.Del gave up.  He had rehearsed his sermon several times and could deliver it without his notes, but he couldn't edit it on the fly.  So he just did it the way he had originally planned.  Halfway through he was interrupted when the smoke alarm went off in the kitchen.  Michelle had left one batch of scallops in the frying pan a little longer than she should have.It took ten minutes for someone to ascertain that the church was not on fire.  Del finished up his sermon, the congregation sang the final hymn, and Thad delivered the benediction.  The service had run a total of twenty-nine minutes over, considerably more than was common when the clergy were in charge.The congregation moved to the Social Hall for the luncheon.  Tammy Billings was first in line.  She examined Michelle's scallop salad closely.  “What is it,” she asked.Michelle described the ingredients and manner of preparation proudly.  Tammy forced a smile.  “Sounds very fancy,” she said.  She took a small helping just to be polite, then grabbed one of O'Donnell's bagel pizzas.  “Where's the coffee?” she asked.Michelle and O'Donnell looked at each other.  They'd both completely forgotten to make coffee.  They scrambled to go set it up.By the time the luncheon was finished the bagel pizzas were completely gone but half the scallop salad remained.  And the coffee had finally finished brewing but by then nobody wanted it anymore.  As Ian helped Michelle pack up the leftovers he observed that she could have gotten away without the frozen scallops after all.  Ian wasn't always the smartest boyfriend.The following week the pastors were running the service again and Tammy was back in charge of coffee hour.  And everything went much more smoothly.

Hear the story read by the author.In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm.  One of Associate Pastor Michelle Tellum's many jobs at the church is programming.  So Michelle was constantly on the lookout for events and activities to encourage fellowship within the congregation.  Holidays frequently provided such opportunities.  When October rolled around, she suggested to Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell that they hold a jack-o-lantern carving contest the day before Halloween.“Sounds like an excellent idea,” Pastor O'Donnell said.  “I can be a judge if you want.”  Being a judge meant that he would be the center of attention and that he wouldn't have to get all messy carving a pumpkin.  O'Donnell liked attention and didn't like getting messy so it was kind of the perfect arrangement. Michelle figured they needed at least three judges.  For the second she recruited Ralph Billings who was always happy to help out in any way he was needed.  Then Michelle asked Missy Moore.  “I'd be a great judge,” Missy said.  “I went to art school, you know.”“I did not know that,” Michelle replied.“But I think I'd rather carve a pumpkin.  You know, put that art training to use.  If you don't think that would be unfair to the other competitors.”“No,” Michelle said, “I think that would be fine.”Next Michelle tried organist Walter Tibble.  Walter had no interest in carving a pumpkin but didn't really have any interest in judging either.  However once Michelle mentioned that she would be making cookies for refreshments Walter agreed.  Walter was a fan of Michelle's cookies and, really, how hard could it be to pick out which jack-o-lantern he liked best?A dozen people entered the contest.  Michelle and her boyfriend, Ian Wells, had bought twenty pumpkins from a local pumpkin patch – really a parking lot covered in hay to seem rustic.  They set them out on a table in the social hall for participants to select from.Missy carefully perused the pumpkins, hoisting each one in turn and gazing at it critically.  “In art school they emphasize the importance of selecting the right materials,” she remarked.  “As Michelangelo said, ‘every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.'”“You do know we're carving pumpkins, not stone,” Ian said.“Of course,” Missy shot back.  “And I want to find the pumpkin with just the right jack-o-lantern lurking inside.”“Great,” Ian replied.  “I think I'll just carve this one.”  He grabbed the pumpkin closest to where he happened to be standing at that moment.“No!” Missy cried.  “That was one of my top choices.  That's why I set it back from the edge of the table.”“It's first come first serve,” Ian said.  He didn't really care which pumpkin he carved, but Missy was starting to annoy him.“Are you even eligible for the contest?” Missy demanded.“Why wouldn't I be?”“You're dating the organizer.”“Let's let Pastor O'Donnell decide,” Ian said.“I think the judges can manage to remain objective,” O'Donnell replied when they asked him.  “Besides, Katie wants to enter, too.”  He nodded toward his teenage daughter, Katie, and her friend Tabitha who were picking out their pumpkins at that very moment.“Okay, Ian can have the good pumpkin,” Missy said grumpily.  “I suppose it's only fair that I'm handicapped considering my art school training.”“How magnanimous,” Ian muttered.  He grabbed a knife and went to claim a workspace.Missy picked a replacement pumpkin and found her workspace.  She pulled a bundle out of her big purse and unrolled it.  It contained a selection of carving and scooping instruments.When Ian saw this he summoned Pastor O'Donnell again.  “Is Missy allowed to use those fancy tools?” Ian asked.  “The rest of us just have knives from the kitchen.”“It doesn't say you can't bring your own tools!” Missy protested and held up the flyer advertising the event.“It doesn't say you can't smash your opponents' pumpkins, either,” Ian pointed out.“That's not the same thing at all,” Missy argued. “I'm going to make an executive decision,” O'Donnell said before the argument got out of hand.  “Missy can use her own tools.”Ian and Missy glared at each other as they returned to their pumpkins.  Over at the judges' table Michelle called for everyone's attention.  “You will have one hour to carve your jack-o-lanterns,” she said.  “Ready…set…go!”  The contestants immediately bent to their work, cutting the tops off their pumpkins and scooping out the insides.  Michelle collected the pumpkin seeds to roast them with spices in the kitchen.  The judges amused themselves at the refreshment table.After about ten minutes Katie pushed her pumpkin away with a groan.  “I screwed up.  Can I start over?” she asked.“Sure,” Michelle said.  “There are still half a dozen pumpkins left.”  Katie found a new pumpkin and resumed work.Ian hadn't gone to art school but he was a pretty creative guy.  He planned to carve the jack of hearts from a deck of cards as a pun on the word jack-o-lantern.  Since the jack of hearts was a one-eyed jack, he made an X for one of the eyes as if it had been gouged out.  He sketched out his plan on the pumpkin with a pencil.  He was pretty proud of himself – the thin curling mustache and the hearts on the side sold it.He glanced over to see how Missy was progressing.  She caught his look and immediately moved to block her pumpkin with her body.“Aaaarrrrgh,” Katie yelled and kicked her pumpkin away.  It rolled across the floor into the corner.  She stomped over to the remaining pumpkins and grabbed a new one.Ian was just putting the final touches on his jack-o-lantern when Michelle announced ten minutes left.“No,” Katie wailed and ran for a new pumpkin.Ian noodled with his entry for several more minutes.  He was happy with what he had done but since Missy was being so protective of hers he figured he would keep his hidden until the last moment as well.Finally Michelle announced that the contest was over and instructed the participants to bring their jack-o-lanterns up to the judges' table.  When Missy saw Ian's jack-of-hearts, she snorted.  “What's scary about that?”“It's a one-eyed-jack-o-lantern,” Ian said.  The judges chuckled and Missy flushed with momentary annoyance.  “Let's see yours,” Ian demanded.Missy revealed her creation.  She had carved a demonic face on her pumpkin, cleverly using pieces of pumpkin that she had cut out from the eyes as horns.  Ian shuddered a little.  It was surprisingly evil looking.O'Donnell cleared his throat.  “That's very…well…”“Disturbing,” Ralph finished.“It's supposed to be scary,” Missy replied.  “This is Halloween, isn't it?”“I guess it is,” Michelle said.  She found the demon a bit unsettling as well.  “Is that all of the entries?”“Wait for me,” Tabitha called out.  She scurried over and set her jack-o-lantern on the table.  Everyone gasped.“It's you!” Katie said.It was indeed.  Tabitha had carved a strikingly lifelike self-portrait on the side of her pumpkin, leaving just enough of the flesh intact within the image that it glowed.  “I got the idea off the internet,” Tabitha said shyly.  “You tape a picture to the pumpkin then poke holes through it with a big needle to create the outline.”“Is that fair?” Missy mumbled.“You got to use your special tools,” Ian pointed out.“I hate jack-o-lanterns” Katie whispered under her breath, looking down at her entry.  She'd ended up carving two triangular eyes and a jagged mouth.“Okay, let's let the judges get to work,” Michelle said.It didn't take long for the judges to make their decision.  O'Donnell called Tabitha up and presented her with a blue ribbon and a gift certificate to Roger's Café. Then O'Donnell announced the other awards.  “Ian gets the funniest jack-o-lantern award.  Missy gets scariest.  Katie gets most traditional…”“Wait a minute,” Missy interrupted.  “What kind of awards are those?  Tabitha's pumpkin is great, I'll admit.  Kudos to her.  But who gets second place?”“Nobody,” Michelle replied.  “There was only one ribbon and gift certificate.  Everyone else gets these fun awards.  It's, you know, fun.”“But…but…” Missy sputtered.  “We all want to know whose was second best, right?”“Yeah,” Ian agreed.“Not really,” Katie grumbled.Michelle turned to the judges.  Walter was the one that spoke up.  “It was a tie,” he said.  “Everyone came in second.  Everyone except Tabitha, of course.  She was clearly first place.  She's quite an artist.”“Well,” Missy muttered under her breath, “great art is never appreciated in its own time.”Perhaps that was true, but within three days her jack-o-lantern had decayed into a puddle of goo so future generations never got to weigh in on the issue.Happy Halloween!

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.  Eight months ago church members Carlos and Carrie Lopez had their first child, a beautiful boy named Scott.  Recently, Scott learned to crawl.  This elicited a variety of emotions in the young parents.Both were of course delighted to see their child reach this milestone.  But in Carrie this delight was mixed with dread over all the new dangers her precious baby would now be exposed to.  Carlos and Carrie were living with Carrie's parents, Del and Karen Winslow.  Minutes after Scott first pulled himself three feet forward to reach a favored toy, Carrie raced to the store to acquire two large bags of baby-proofing devices.Del was quite amused watching Carrie spend the next few days ensuring that every corner, door, drawer and liquid was covered or locked down.  He followed her around telling stories about the trouble she got into when she first started crawling back in the days before all those fancy safety gadgets.  His intention was to reassure her that everything would inevitably turn out okay, but the tales of Carrie's young brushes with injury had the opposite effect on his daughter.Carlos's delight was not tinged with anxiety so much as exhaustion.  His job while Carrie was baby-proofing was to wrangle Scott manually away from any danger.  Once Scott realized that he was now able to move about the house unassisted he took maximum advantage of the skill.  And Scott turned out to be a natural speedster.  It was all Carlos could do to keep up with him.That Sunday the Winslow's trooped off to church.  Del was in the choir and Karen taught Sunday school.  Carlos, Carrie and Scott took their usual place in the back pew, which had extra room to accommodate strollers.Now that he could crawl Scott's patience for being strapped into a stroller or car seat was extremely limited.  Once the little family was settled and the service started, he began to get fidgety.  Carlos took Scott out of the stroller and held him on his lap, hoping that would calm the little guy.  It did not.As the offertory began Carlos allowed Scott to crawl up and down the pew.  Scott was pleased with this solution but Carrie was not.  She elbowed Carlos and hissed, “What are you doing?  He could fall off.”So Carlos set Scott down on the floor.  It seemed a reasonable idea in the moment, but one he would quickly regret.From little Scott's perspective, the carpet stretched out in a broad plain populated by people's legs and roofed by the pews.  It looked like a fascinating place to explore.  And so that's what he did.From Carrie and Carlos's perspective, their baby had just vanished under the pew in front of them.Carrie immediately dropped to her hands and knees.  But she was too slow – Scott was already three rows away.  Carrie wriggled after him, but while little Scott could easily crawl under the pews Carrie had to follow on her belly.  Even so, she banged her head several times.Carlos meanwhile scrambled out to the side aisle to pursue his child.  He got there just as head usher Ralph Billings was coming by with the offering plate.  They nearly collided, then did a little dance to maneuver around each other.  Though the delay was only a few seconds, it allowed Scott to extend his lead by several more rows.Carrie almost caught Scott when he stopped to investigate Missy Moore's purse, which was sitting on the floor.  He pulled the purse over, spilling out the contents.  Missy looked down in time to see Scott crawl after a silver pen that was rolling toward the front of the sanctuary.  A moment later Carrie lunged out from under the pew, her fingers missing Scott's heels by an inch.Carrie felt several sharp pricks in her hands and arms.  She lifted them to discover she'd been skewered by thumbtacks that had spilled from Missy's purse.  She looked up at Missy and asked, “Who carries thumbtacks in their purse?”  Missy sputtered, still trying to comprehend exactly what was happening down there under the pews.  Carrie didn't wait for an answer.  She scrambled after Scott, ignoring the pain.Quite a few other members of the congregation were startled when a baby crawled past their legs, followed soon after by a slithering young woman.  Some inadvertently stepped on Carrie's fingers, though miraculously none impeded Scott's progress in any way.Once the offering was collected, the congregation stood and sang the Doxology as the ushers brought the plates up the center aisle to the altar.  Out in the side aisle Carlos had gotten parallel to Scott and could see him crawling relentlessly forward in the middle of the pews.Carlos jogged ahead to intercept the baby.  He selected a pew to make his move just as the congregation was sitting back down.  With no time for elaborate explanations he climbed over eighty-six-year-old Donald East.  But he tripped on Donald's cane and fell face first into Seventy-year-old Henrietta Miggins's lap.“While I never!” Henrietta hissed.Carlos mumbled an incoherent explanation as Scott cruised past between Henrietta's legs.  Carlos made a belated grab for the child, but missed.  He scrambled back out to the side aisle ignoring Henrietta's indignant glare.Normally the ushers left the offertory plates on the altar, but today was a communion Sunday and the altar held the bread cubes and thimble size glasses of grape juice for the ceremony later in the service.  So they took the offering plates with them as they returned to the back of the church.Next up on the program was special music.  As it happened this Sunday's special music was a solo performed by Del, accompanied by organist Walter Tibble.  Del came out of the choir area and stood at the front of the chancel.  At his nod, Walter began to play.  Del closed his eyes and sang, unaware that Scott had just crawled out from the front of the pews.  Little Scott looked up and saw grandpa singing.  Scott liked grandpa.  So he headed that way.Scott struggled up the two steps to the chancel.  Of course by this point the entire congregation could see the runaway baby.  But nobody quite knew how to respond to the situation.As Scott clambered up the final step to the chancel he became distracted by the shiny gold trays holding the communion sacraments.  His attention span was pretty short at this stage of his mental development.  Scott crawled to the altar, grasped the crisp white cloth covering it, and pulled himself up to standing.  Standing unassisted was a skill he had not yet mastered.Scott didn't weigh much, but he weighed enough that when he tugged on the cloth it started to slide.  And as the cloth slid it brought the communion trays to the edge of the altar.  The congregation gasped in unison at the impending disaster.Del heard the gasps and opened his eyes.  He knew he was a good vocalist but couldn't see any reason why he should elicit such a reaction mid-song.  When he discovered everyone's gaze was fixed on a point behind him, he turned around.The communion trays tipped precariously above Scott as he wobbled, clinging to the altar cloth.  Without missing a note, Del stepped back and scooped the baby into his arms.  Then he calmly stepped forward again and launched into the next verse as Scott squirmed and gurgled and tugged at the collar of Del's choir robe.When the song was over Del handed the infant to Carlos and Carrie who were waiting anxiously at the edge of the chancel.  Carrie hugged Scott tightly, a tear trickling down her face.Del chuckled to himself as he returned to his seat.  “New parents,” he thought.  “They panic so easily.”

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 most churches, this one has an all-church annual meeting to elect committee members and hear reports from committee chairs. And like most churches it is difficult to get many people from the congregation to attend. Who could blame them? Annual meetings are universally tedious. But this year Senior Pastor Henry O'Donnell had an idea to lure a bigger crowd. They would make it a luncheon. Free food always increased participation in church events, no matter how tedious. When O'Donnell brought up the idea to Florence Barker, head of the pastor-parish committee, she took to it immediately. At seventy-eight Florence was one of the senior members of the church, but age hadn't slowed her down in the slightest. She even offered to coordinate the food for the luncheon. O'Donnell had envisioned something simple like pasta or a six-foot submarine sandwich, but Florence thought they needed a theme. “How about a Biblical Times luncheon?” she suggested. The pastor agreed it was an excellent idea. O'Donnell scheduled the luncheon for noon on a Sunday so that he could boost attendance by applying guilt as people left worship. He also enlisted Sunday school teacher Karen Winslow to supervise a kids' table for the younger children hoping that would be added incentive for the parents to stick around. The result was the best attended annual meeting to date. O'Donnell had spent the previous week coming up with his own way to embrace Florence's theme. So when it came time to welcome everyone, he stepped out of the church office dressed in an authentic period shepherd's outfit consisting of a robe, sandals, rope belt and staff. The costume got the amused attention O'Donnell had hoped for. He opened the meeting with a brief lecture about the culture of Jesus' time. “Brief” by pastors' standards, that is. But the attendees listened politely for the entire ten minutes. Finally O'Donnell delivered a blessing and then invited everyone to help themselves to the buffet. Florence and her volunteer assistants had prepared pita bread and hummus, tabouli salad, stuffed grape leaves, olives, dates, rice, and lamb kebabs. Though in Jesus' time meals were typically accompanied by wine, it was agreed that grape juice would make a better substitute. There was also ambrosia salad. It wasn't true to the theme, but somehow no church meal was ever complete without ambrosia salad. Over at the designated kids' table, Karen did her best to keep the ravenous little beasts at bay while the adults filled their plates first. Once everyone over the age of twelve had a shot at the buffet, the youngsters were turned loose. Typical for children their age, they avoided the more unfamiliar foods, focusing on the pita bread and ambrosia salad. But Karen made sure they each took a little of everything and didn't overdose on ambrosia. Unlike the designated kids' table, there was no designated senior citizens' table. But one emerged anyway. Seventy-year-old Henrietta Miggins, seventy-three-year-old Celia Simmons and seventy-five-year-old Betsy Davis, collectively known around the church as the “Little Old Ladies,” chose a table near the microphone and were joined by eighty-six-year-old Donald East. Florence, though from the same generation, was not part of the Little Old Ladies. She considered them fuddy-duddies and they found her a bit too free spirited for their tastes. But Florence joined their table anyway once her chores in the kitchen were finished. “Look at those kids,” Florence said, gesturing to the buffet as she sat down. “They're having so much fun.” “I suppose they are,” Henrietta replied. “And here I was thinking the annual meeting was supposed to be a serious affair.” Two of the people O'Donnell had shanghaied after church were Kevin and Jill Boyer. Free food and guilt would not have enticed Kevin to stay when there was football on TV at home, but Jill was won over by the children's' table. She appreciated any break she could get from her daughters Mary and Susie. Kevin and Jill sat with Carrie and Carlos Winslow and their baby boy, Scott. Carrie was Karen Winslow's daughter. Carrie's father, Del was sitting at the next table over, his back to them. Across from Del was Ralph Billings. Del was complaining to Ralph about how his wife never got to enjoy these events because she was always saddled watching “that unruly gang of kids.” Del had a deep voice that easily carried to Kevin and Jill, whose kids were among those Del was referring to, but they pretended not to hear. After all, he wasn't wrong. Aware that once the eating was done people would find excuses to leave, Pastor O'Donnell opened the business part of the meeting as soon as Karen had the kids seated again. First on the agenda, each committee chair came up in turn to report on their committee's activities. The reports were universally upbeat, self-congratulatory, and overly long. While Henrietta was giving the Trustees report, over at the kids' table four-year-old Mary Boyer picked up a date and quietly asked, “what's this” to nobody in particular. Six-year-old Tyler Park answered, “it's a boiled caterpillar cocoon.” “Is not,” Mary shot back. “Sure is,” Tyler said. “They collect them in the desert around Bethlehem. It's what the three wise men ate when they were going to see Jesus.” “Eeeewwww,” Mary said. “That's not true,” Becky interjected. At twelve she was really too old for the kids' table but she found sitting there just barely preferable to sitting with her parents. In her mind she was helping Karen supervise the children. “It's a date,” Becky continued. “It's a kind of fruit.” Tyler responded by throwing his date at Becky. Becky turned to Karen and said, rather loudly, “Tyler threw a date at me!” Up at the front of the room Henrietta stopped mid-sentence to glare at the interruption. “Tyler, don't throw food,” Karen commanded. She gave Henrietta an apologetic look. Henrietta sniffed and continued her report. As soon as Karen's attention was otherwise occupied, Tyler bounced an olive off of Becky's nose. “Tattle Tale,” he hissed. Becky picked up the olive and hurled it back at him. It went down his shirt. Mary thought all this looked like great fun. She grabbed a handful of tabouli and threw it at Tyler. Tyler winged a stuffed grape leaf at Mary in response. He missed, and the biblical delicacy landed in the middle of the old people's table. “Enough!” Karen shouted. “You kids quit goofing around and eat your lunch. We have important church business to do here today. The next one who throws anything is going to be sorry. Am I clear?” The children slumped silently in their chairs. And then an olive hit Karen in the ear. Everyone was too startled to react at first. The olive came from the direction of the old people's table. Karen looked over and saw Florence Barker grinning from ear to ear. The kids' table erupted in flying food. Del Winslow shook his head at the sight and said, “This wouldn't happen if parents today knew how to discipline their kids.” Behind him, Carrie noticed that Jill Boyer's face reddened. “I'll go get Mary,” Jill mumbled to her husband. Carrie thought back to all the trouble she had caused as a kid and decided her father's judgmental tone was uncalled for. So she hurled a piece of pita bread at the back of his head. Del spun around, sputtering indignantly. Carrie tossed another piece of bread. Del ducked. The bread hit Ralph Billings. In short order half of the adults had joined the kids in the food fight. Up at the front of the room Henrietta looked like she was about to explode. Pastor O'Donnell stepped forward and raised his staff. “Stop this!” he commanded, looking a little like Moses reprimanding the fractious Israelites. He was rewarded by a glob of hummus that smacked him square in the chest. This was followed by a shower of olives, dates, rice, tabouli and ambrosia salad. O'Donnell was forced to retreat to the church office. The Israelites were models of obedience compared to the congregation of the little church. About ten minutes later the more sober adults had finally managed to bring the food fight to a halt. It was decided that perhaps the children should play outside during the remainder of the meeting. With a more dignified atmosphere restored, voting commenced to elect new committee members where needed and reelect those who wished to continue in their roles. The voting went quickly since there was only one candidate for each position. It was hard enough finding one person to take on each job without recruiting opposing candidates as well. After O'Donnell declared the meeting over and delivered a final prayer, Florence leaned back and said, “best annual meeting ever if I do say so myself.” Henrietta stood up and patted her on the shoulder. “I'm glad you enjoyed it. Have fun with the clean-up.”

Hear the story read by the author.In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there's a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Last Sunday Pastor Henry O'Donnell's wife Jennifer was out of town on business. Which meant Henry was on his own for breakfast. Meals were important to Henry but breakfast was perhaps the most important. If he didn't get breakfast he became grouchy. And since Sunday mornings were the highest profile part of his workweek it was a bad idea for him to skip breakfast on those days. Jennifer usually made him eggs or pancakes on Sunday mornings, but Henry was not a cook so he made himself a bowl of cereal. He didn't mind – he liked cereal. However when he took his first bite this morning he immediately spit it back out. He grabbed the milk carton and found the expiration date. It was two days past. “Who forgot to get milk?” Henry grumbled to himself. He rummaged through the cupboards. The easiest thing he could make was oatmeal but Henry didn't particularly care for oatmeal. He did like fast food, though. His wife discouraged drive through breakfasts, but then she wasn't here and she hadn't thought to buy milk before she left so really she had nobody to blame but herself. Henry set out for the nearest fast food joint. His heart sank when he saw the long line of cars at the drive through. He looked at the clock. Normally he liked to get to the church at least half an hour early so he could gather his thoughts before he had to lead the service. Today he would probably have to make do with only twenty minutes or so. Now Henry had preached several times on the strange way that getting behind the wheel of an automobile turned otherwise polite, tolerant people into impatient, angry jerks. But just because he preached about it didn't mean he was immune to the phenomena. So when the guy in the car in front of him didn't notice that the line had moved forward because he was talking on his cell phone, Henry felt his blood pressure rising. He tapped his horn quickly a couple times. The other driver waved an apology. Henry noticed he had a tattoo on his forearm. “Punk kids,” Henry thought, then immediately felt old. At fifty-five he was very sensitive to the “old man” thoughts that seemed to cross his mind with growing frequency. When it was finally Henry's turn he ordered a double sausage-and-egg biscuit, hash brown bites, and orange juice. The so-called fast food was not quite as fast as usual this morning, perhaps explaining the long line. By the time Henry finally received the bag he figured he was only going to make it to the church with about fifteen minutes to spare. Fortunately he could eat while he was driving. He pulled up at a red light and noticed with mild surprise that the car in front of him was the same one that had been in front of him at the drive through. And the yahoo at the wheel was still talking on the phone. Henry took advantage of the stop to get his food out. He was unhappy to discover that the teenager at the drive through had forgotten his hash brown bites. Oh well, too late to go back now. He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. A car behind him tapped its horn twice. Henry looked up to see that the light had changed and cell phone tattoo guy hadn't noticed. “Yeah, pay attention,” Henry mumbled at the distracted driver through his mouthful of sandwich. People who talked on cell phones while they drove were a menace. Henry pulled into the other lane so he wouldn't be behind the jerk anymore. Using his left hand to hold the breakfast sandwich and steer, he retrieved his juice from the fast food bag with his right hand. The juice had a foil cover over it. While Henry was pulling the foil back with his teeth, he inadvertently started to drift across the dividing lines. A long honk startled Henry. He veered back into his own lane, but dropped his sandwich in the process. It bounced under his seat. He looked over and saw that the horn blower was none other than cell phone tattoo guy, though he was no longer using the cell phone. “Yeah, you're one to talk,” Henry muttered. But he was more concerned about his lost breakfast than the rude driver. One bite of sausage-and-egg biscuit and a little juice weren't going to get him through that morning's service. Henry pulled into the left turn lane when he reached Elm Street. To his amazement the same guy was in front of him again. And he was back on that cursed cell phone. The light turned green. A handful of oncoming cars passed and then the turn was clear. Only the guy on the cell phone didn't turn. “Oh that's just too much,” Henry growled. Since there was no traffic, he gunned the engine and pulled into the oncoming lanes to turn in front of the guy. Half a block later he noticed flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror. His day just kept getting worse. While the cop was writing Henry a very expensive ticket for careless driving, cell phone tattoo guy passed. He caught Henry's eye and just laughed. Henry ground his teeth. He didn't think it was wise to swear in front of the cop. The police stop consumed most of Henry's remaining time cushion. He arrived at the church with barely five minutes to spare. But the growling in his belly would not be denied so he used three of those five minutes to go to the social hall, which was set up for coffee hour. Someone had brought donuts – a breakfast food Henry liked even better than double sausage-and-egg biscuits. He grabbed a powdered donut and shoved half of it into his mouth with his first bite. As he was chewed someone came up and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to discover church secretary Tammy Billings. Standing behind her was none other than the tattooed cell phone guy. “I'd like you to meet a new visitor to the church,” Tammy said. “This is Billy Kent.” The two men just stared at each other for several moments. Tammy looked from one to the other in confusion. Billy regained his composure first. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a southern drawl and extended his hand. “Likewise,” Henry replied through his mouthful of donut. They shook hands and Henry swallowed. “Well, I better get into the service,” Henry said. With Henry's belly reasonably full the service went off without a hitch. Billy soon became a regular member of the church. And the two of them never spoke of their encounter on the road that morning.