Humor

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A Sunday Morning Experience

It had been an unusually busy month for my pastor husband. Too many meetings, too much counseling, people pulling for his attention from all sides. So when he walked in the door that Sunday evening, looking like something the cat dragged in, I knew I had to step up to the plate and say something. And so I did.

“Guess what, Paul? We’re going on a short vacation.”

I had no idea where we were going, yet, but I knew I had to plan something to give this busy pastor a brief respite and save his sanity.

“What? What do you mean we’re going on a short vacation. You know how busy I am. I couldn’t possibly get away” Paul said in a weary voice.

“That’s the point” I said. “You need a break and we are going to take that break. Now, come have some dinner and we will make our plans.”

It was decided.

We were going to Vermont for a long weekend. Vermont was a mere 5 hour drive from our home.

Four days later the car was packed and we were on our way to Vermont.
We planned to stay at a lovely bed-and-breakfast in a small town tucked into the majestic hills of this beautiful State.

The bed-and-breakfast was surrounded by a forest of large evergreen trees. Flowers were everywhere displaying a beautiful array of colors. Coral and pink impatient lined the walkway. Several large navy flower pots with white begonia were strategically placed throughout the massive yard. The home boasted a screened in porch on which coffee was enjoyed each morning. A quiet stream ran alongside the house which welcomed deer and other small animals. This truly was a magnificent setting for a relaxing vacation.

Sunday morning arrived and we decided we would attend church. The choice, we soon discovered, was slim. Actually there was one. A block away was a small country church which boasted a beautiful steeple. A sign out front read, “Welcome to Country Community Church, George A. Garrison, Pastor.”

Since this was our only choice, and because we wanted to attend church, we joined these folks for worship. Their entire membership was a whopping twenty people. I counted seven men, seven women and six children. When you added in my husband and myself, their grand total for this Sunday was twenty-two!

It may have been a small church, but its people were quite sophisticated. Women were dressed in stunning summer dresses with a large hat to match. Men were dressed in three-piece suits. We stood out like a sore thumb. My husband was wearing beige khaki pants and red polo shirt, Me, I was wearing a navy cotton skirt with white polka-dots, a red belt and white blouse; minus hat. Even though we were not properly attired, or so I thought, we were warmly welcomed.

A friendly usher walked us to our pew. He introduced himself as Sam. Three minutes before the service was to begin we heard this horrible EEEEEEEEKKKKKKKK!!!!!! at which time seven women jumped up on the pew looking absolutely horrified. I thought, “What? Well, I never. Are we in some kind of cult?” I looked around to see what the pastor was going to do with this bizarre situation. I noted that even he had a rather startled expression on his face.

Okay, I mused. Maybe this wasn’t how they typically began their Sunday morning worship service, but it certainly got ones attention.

And then I saw the object which caused their actions. A tiny grey, field mouse scampered up the middle aisle of the church. I must admit, even I lifted my feet off the floor just in case the mouse took a wrong turn and ran my way.

I sat there amused. What were they going to do? Obviously we couldn’t have church with seven women standing at attention as they were, on the pews no less, and a mouse dashing here and there throughout the church.

Soon, seven men began chasing that poor, frightened critter and eventually had him cornered.

Now what, I wondered.

One of the men had a plastic bowl he retrieved from the kitchen and with a whomp the bowl came down on top of the mouse. Probably scared that poor thing to an early death.

Okay, mouse is captured, what would they do next?

After a short discussion among the seven, one of them pushed the bowl, with mouse underneath, across the hardwood floor to the door which by now was standing wide open waiting to receive this little visitor. Once the mouse was safely to the door, the bowl was lifted and a relieved grey field mouse scampered out the door and headed for the hills beyond, probably never to return to church again.

All seven women stepped off their pew, located their husband and children, then quietly and calmly sat down as though nothing had ever happened, patting their hats to make sure they were still appropriately placed.

I sat their amused. I had this insatiable bubble of laugher just waiting to burst forth and yet I knew this was not the time or place for this to occur, or was it? This was the funniest thing I had ever witnessed in church and this laughter was not going to stay inside, try as I might to keep it there.

My husband gave me a warning look.

Too late!

As the pastor took the podium, I began to snicker. Then he announced, in all seriousness, "Let’s stand and turn to page 207 in your hymn book. We’ll begin our service this morning with the singing of Behold a Stranger at the Door.”

That was it! Laughter just wouldn’t stay inside. With the announcement of that song, after just having a furry little stranger at this church door, I lost it and started to laugh. Twenty heads turned to look at this visitor, then they too burst into a hardly, joyful laughter, my husband laughing the loudest.

“We were filled with laughter, and we sang for joy.” Psalm 126:2 (NLT).

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