Thoughts during Church

I will be kind…I will smile…were Brenda’s thoughts, as she sat in the family pew, hands folded in her lap, back straight, and eyes focused on Pastor Ben.  No one will know my thoughts.  No one will suspect what I am thinking.

On her left side, her father was ‘amening’ almost in a rhythm, and Brenda had to force her feet from tapping 1…2…3 and hold…1…2…  Her grandmother was waving her hankie in a show of agreement.

Show?  Brenda pondered that word, looking around at other old ladies with their gray hair and dressy hats.  They too were waving their hankies, and some even dabbed at their eyes.

All the other young people were sitting in the back, passing notes, and giggling.  Their heads were bowed, but Brenda knew what they were doing.   The young families were in the middle of the church, with their children.  Brenda could smell the Cheerios and Fruit Loops.

On Brenda’s ride side, her mother sat, quietly folding and unfolding the church bulletin.  Fold...2...3..  Her mother's hands were red and worn; she had to prepare another dinner for the pastor and family.  Every Sunday, it was dinner for someone. 

Her mother smiled at her, and briefly made eye contact.

That was when Brenda knew.  Her mother wanted to blast out of this church just as badly as Brenda. To escape.

What’ll we do?  Mom, what will we do? 

Her mother wrote a note to her father, which read about checking on the roast and get dinner ready for the pastor, and Brenda had to help.   Her father nodded, not breaking rhythm one bit.

Source: saavem

They tore out of the parking lot.  As they drove past their house, Brenda turned to her mother.  Mom?  Mom?

Her mother smiled, lit up a cigarette, and sped up.  “We’re goin’ to Vegas, girl. I am done fixing dinners every single Sunday for every preacher passing through town.”  Then they headed to the West, the whole 1,000 mile trip. 

Source

Things Are Not Always as They Seem

Sunday dinner

My father was a storyteller, as I once wrote.

He had one particular story that he told whenever he sat at the table with someone other than my mother.  Mom had heard the story so many times.  She usually went to the bathroom when he started:

Now, I wanta tell you that the moral of this story is ‘Things are not always as they seem’.

Old church revivals held here!

Well, I tell you.  We been havin’ revival for a few days.  Good preacher, good one.  We had ‘im out for dinner once, and decided to invite ‘im back.  Good preacher—what was his name, Irma?  Irma? 

Well, anyway.  I called Irma and told her and Mary to get the table set ‘cause I was bringin’ the preacher home for dinner.  She said we’d better get home, dinner’s almost done.

So we got there as quick as we could.  The table was set, and oh! was it a sight!  Irma and Mary, well they’d gotten out some cloth napkins, the good ones from my grandma.  Don’t use them much, Irma says she’s not going to iron those old things anymore.  But, there those nice soft cloth napkins were, folded with the forks and such on top.

Fine dining!

Irma and Mary used paper towels, and I thought that showed true humility.  It was generous of them to give the cloth napkins to us.  So, we set down to eat. 

Well, I tell you.  Irma had outdone herself.  

Oh, the fried chicken was crispy, and the milk gravy was just right!   

The preacher and me, why, we wiped our hands and faces with those soft cloth napkins.  Take a bite, and then wipe off the chicken grease off our faces.  It was a luxury, I tell you.

Irma brought out the pie and coffee.  We spread the napkins across our chests, and dug into that pie.  Those napkins were fit for kings, which we felt like we were.

After I took the preacher home and came back, I thanked Irma and Mary for their generous spirit and the cloth napkins. 

The mice that came for dinner...

Mary looked at me, and she said, “Why, Dad.  After we shook the mouse turds out of those two napkins you used, Mom and I decided we made do with paper towels.”

So that goes to show you:  Things are not what they always seem.

The storyteller, Dad with my oldest daughter Erin and his dog Cindy