Early memories of the offering basket are not pleasant. No, our first meeting of the offering basket was not a high moment for our family.
That Sunday we were in an iron grip on either side of our mother when the offering basket came by. Momma was busy singing, and we found little to do with only one hand each.
Kent and I must have been young, maybe 4 or 5. The basket came by and this was the first time we had ever seen the like. Dollar bills, great handfuls of change, and even some checks were in that humble basket.
That's just how I feel, too.
Kent’s mouth made an “O”, as I took the basket from the old lady next to me, and passed it to Kent, amazed that this old lady didn’t empty the basket for herself. She looked poor, like she needed some new socks or hankies. Old ladies always wear their hankies out.
Kent grabbed as much paper money as he could, and went for the coins. Stuffing them into his pockets in rapid-fire, Kent glowed with gleeful greed.
Get the coins! I hissed. Get the silver coins!
Momma came out of her worship and saw the money disappearing into Kent’s pockets and down his pants.
Oh, it was bound to happen: Momma dropped our hands, I dropped the basket and Kent knocked it up high into the air. Money spread everywhere like fluttering leaves and nuggets of gold.
Momma dragged us out of the church in a red-faced flight, muttering all the way down the aisle. Once out of sight, she just about stripped Kent down naked to get all the money. She gave us a talking-to about the money being for God, and that we were stealing from God.
Kent and I were never allowed near another offering basket; the ushers skipped our row altogether. We didn’t know why God needed our money, but it had something to do with “offering”.
Well, if God needed our money, He could sure have it.
"My name is Rachel and my brothers name is Joshua. We made an apple juice stand and want to gv it to the kids in Africa for mosckito nets. We made 42 dollers and 50 cents."
Some photos are courtesy of Bing.com--from all over the world
MC Blogfest: Interview with Ellen Jo Carter, age 4 ½ years, from In Preacher’s Creek
Interviewer: Susan Kane, author of In Preacher’s Creek
Questions: 1. What is your greatest fear? 2. What is your biggest accomplishment? 3. What is your biggest regret?
Kane: Hello, Ellen. I am glad you could join me today. You sure look very pretty in your lovely dress!
Ellen Jo: My momma made me wear this dress, it’s my Sunday dress. Momma fixed my hair and she scrubbed me hard to make sure I was clean. Momma is ‘ticular like that. And, she wouldn’t let Kent come with me! He’s my brother and he is six years old. I am 4 ½ years old, and we do everything together. I mean, everything, and we go everywhere together. (Ellen looks around uncertainly, and wiggles in her chair. She pats down the poufy skirt, and then scratches the scabs on her knee. Her patent leather shoes hang over the edge of the chair, and her feet swing back and forth.) Do you like my shoes? I like them a lot. They’re called ‘Mary Jane’ shoes, ‘cause someone named Mary Jane owned them ‘fore me, maybe.
Kane: Are you nervous about being here by yourself?
Ellen Jo: I don’t know what that means—nervous?. My dress is itchy, and Momma said I had to sit like a lady. Do I have to sit like a lady? (Kane shakes her head, with a smile.) Ohhh, thank you! You won’t tell Momma, will you, ‘cause she is picky like that. (Ellen pulls the dress up from behind her. Her relief is palpable.)
Kane: So, Ellen. I want to ask you some questions. (Ellen nods, while scratching her head where a fluffy bow is tied.) The first question is: What is your greatest fear?
Ellen Jo: (Her eyes grow wide.) Greatest fear? You mean, I can have only one? I got bunches of fears. (Kane indicates that Ellen can name more.) I guess I am afraid that Kent will ditch me,and leave me behind. When he does that, it usually means I get caught ‘cause I’m a slow runner. Or it means Kent has gone off with Bobby or somebody else. Then I'd get left behind, without him.
We been together since I was born, about a hundred years.
The author with her family
Other than that, I guess I fear that I'll break Momma's heart, like this! (Ellen demonstrates how she could break a stick or pencil.) That'd make her cry, and I don't wanta do that.
Kane: Very good, Ellen! (Ellen Jo beams at the praise.) Now, the next question is: What is your biggest accomplishment? (Ellen appears puzzled. Kane explains definition.) ‘Accomplishment’ means something that you learned to do that was hard for you, but you did it anyway. Can you think of something?
Ellen Jo: Oh, yeah, I know of somethin’! You see, I was really scared that the devil was gonna take me because I was doin’ all this sinning when Kent and me did stuff we got in trouble for doin’. You know, like stealing the bases on the playground and hiding them in Bobby’s shed? Or when we painted Ol’ Man Henderson’s shed with left-over paint?
Anyway, I couldn’t sleep or eat, ‘cause I was afraid the devil’d come and steal my soul. Finally, Momma asked Pastor Beechum to come to my house and he prayed with me. I gived my heart and soul to Jesus, and I’m not afraid anymore. (Then she lowered her voice to a whisper.) Kent is still a big-time sinner; he lies all the time, and he knows he’s goin’ straight to hell, if he don’t stop sinning. (Ellen Jo leaned back, folded her hands on her lap, and gave Kane a sweet satisfied smile.)
Kane:Well, then. Just one more question: What is your biggest regret? ‘Regret’ means how you feel when you have done or said something that you wish you hadn’t done.
Ellen Jo: (Her face changed from sweetness to great sadness, and her hazel eyes glistened with tears.) Oh. I know what you mean. I called Bobby a “dummy head” and told him that I was smarter than him. I told him that he was stupid. His face looked all twisted up when I said that, and then he wouldn’t look at me for the longest time, and he wouldn’t play with me. I wish I hadn’t said that, and he won’t let me say I’m sorry. I can’t make it right, ever.
Kane: (She looked at her watch.) Well, that’s all I wanted to ask you for now. I just want to say that I love working with you and Kent. You two sure have interesting adventures. You can go now.
Ellen Jo Carter hopped down off the chair and skipped through the open door. “Momma! Momma! I did real good! I didn’t pick my nose or anything! Can we go get ice cream? Me and Kent? Can we get ice cream?” The noises receded, with a boy’s voice joining in with Ellen’s words. Kane peered out the door, and saw Kent take Ellen’s hand as they left the building.
Thanks for reading my interview with my main character, Ellen Jo Carter. Now Click here! to read other interviews!
Our train of tricycle and rusty red Radio Flyer slowly moved along the restrictions of
the gray uneven sidewalk, thumping over the raised sections where time and water had
moved rock and earth to push up the ancient pitted concrete. My brother Kent, with
his sweat-streaked coal black hair and his black framed magnifying lense-like glasses,
peddled slowly, clearly bored with the straight, narrow, and bumpy.
I stood on the platform between the two back wheels, holding on lightly to Kent’s bony kid shoulders,
thinking random thoughts about the humid June weather, the smelly freshly oiled streets,
Mom’s command for us to stay off the oil or else, and whatever a scrawny four-year
old might think. Behind me in the wagon was Bobby, a lumpy neighbor friend, who
sat benignly in the hot metal and complaining as he always did about anything and
everything, including the smell of the oil puddled in the streets, puddled like black
swimming holes, black glossy swimming holes.
It was then that our lives took a new turn, one that would affect many lives, not just our
own young lives, but the lives of grown-ups who were setting out of one of the greatest
adventures of all. The Christian Church doors opened, and out poured a flood of talking
and laughing people, a flood like a rainbow of paint cans that had tipped over and spilled
the contents down the steps.
The women were all dressed in Easter-like finery—dresses with floral splashes and pill-box hats of all colors topped off with fine nets. The men were dressed in funeral garb, complete with ties wrapped too tightly around their bulging necks, with faces red and bloated. The talking and laughing women walked over to the
school house cafeteria next door, followed by the grim and silent husbands, forced there by custom and by threat, knowing that the next meal on their kitchen tables depended on their attendance at this event.
Out of the church doors came another group, only this time the women were garbed gaily
in gorgeous gowns of pink chiffon, layer after layer of wispy, wafting finery waving in
the wind. Then men followed them, young and fit and happy, laughing about the lucky
lively man who lingered with his love on the top step. The pink-clothed bridesmaids
lined one side of the stairs while the gray suit men lined the other. Between them, the
bride in a glittering and graceful gown of winter white with her willing groom began their
descent.
Fate took a hand at this point, and I detected a change in Kent’s long lean legs. He
steered our tricycle entourage onto the oil infested streets and gained speed on the smooth
level gleaming oily black surface. “Noooooo!” I protested but I was almost thrown
off by the g-forces Kent had gained with his grand propelling of our train. In the back,
Bobby was crying, “I’m gonna die…die…” but his voice drifted in the wake of the wind
generated by our rapid locomotion.
Thank you, Erin, for hosting this.
The wheels now had multiple layers of oil coating, and this was when Kent turned his attention to the wedding party. Going the speed of light, our train headed straight for the backs of the pink gowned women. They turned just as we came through them, a spray of sticky syrupy oil splattering across the pink chiffon, creating a new vision of pink leopards, screaming high pitched profanity. The bride was bowled over back onto
the steps, while the groom made his first mistake of his new marriage: he laughed.
The groomsmen were light on their feet, and danced out of the way, but they would have been safe. Our train had lost it load of oil on the bridesmaids and bride.
We headed through the grass, and with great effort, Kent steered us into safer ground,
behind lilac bushes, across two yards, and into our garage, where we collapsed in
laughter and dread.
The original short paragraphs are as follows. I am adding this in, as I didn't recall (brain-fog-moment) that I was supposed to do this. :)
Kent had wired the wagon to the wheel support, where I stood.Bobby climbed into the wagon, complaining about everything, including the nasty oiled streets and the hot muggy June weather.Mom had given us no-nonsense instructions about staying off the streets, so Kent slowly pedaled along the uneven sidewalk.
Just then, a wedding party came pouring out the doors of the Christian Church.The bridesmaids in pink fluffy gowns along with the groomsmen in tuxedos flowed down the church steps, laughing.With their backs to us, the bridesmaids were oblivious to us three and our tricycle train.The bride and groom stood on the top step, preparing to move down.That is when Kent made a decision.Peddling for all he was worth, Kent steered through the pools of black oil, and then made a line for the bridesmaids.They never saw us coming.
This is a true story. I can show you the oil tire marks on the sidewalk in front of the
church. In Preacher’s Creek by Susan Kane
This blogfest is being hosted by the following site: http://courtlyromance.blogspot.com Please check out this site! Many Thanks! to Erin Kane Spock, an awesome writer, with a great future!
