Short Stories

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“Are you sure about the scones?” he asked as he placed the Tupperware container of flour in the pantry.

“Given the subject matter, it seemed the most appropriate snack to prepare. Besides, we had a special situation to consider. The questionnaires the parents filled out reminded me that Abbie is diabetic and therefore needs a balance of carbs and protein in order to deal with the sugar content of the snack. The scones and milk at snack time should equal out. And because the sugar we’re using is of the unrefined variety, we have a little bit of leeway.”

As he washed the various measuring cups and spoons, he stole a sideways glance at his bride of just over a quarter century. In all that time, she had never made scones before. His only experience with the pastry had been on a 747 an hour before touching down at Heathrow in London prior to a semester spent at Cambridge where, incidentally, they had met. Because he remembered it being a tasty introduction to British fare, he was grateful for the recipe websites frequented by his wife.

“Do you suppose we’re ready for this?” Elsbeth asked fifteen minutes later as she slipped the lightly browned pastries off the parchment paper covering the baking pan and onto a cooling rack.

“I know I am,” he said, closing the refrigerator door with an elbow because his hands were full of various spreads.

“Only one,” she said sternly. “And don’t take one of the ones shaped like a fish. But I meant the whole Sunday school thing again. I know it’s only one Sunday a month, but we haven’t done this since Maddie was eight years old.”

“Well…” he began and found his thoughts drifting in another direction.

“Well what?”

“Oh, I was about to say that children don’t change. Then I remembered the photo you took of Maddie and Kyle at Christmas,” he said thoughtfully. Their daughter and son in law had been standing arm in arm in front of the fireplace while holding an image pulled from the second ultrasound in front of Maddie’s stomach.

“Yes, they certainly do change, don’t they? But we are familiar with the temperaments of the children already, and that should help. Since we will be dealing with a new youngster of our own soon enough, I thought the increased exposure to children would be good for us.”

“You are probably right. And with that in mind, perhaps we should go through the lesson plan again.”

Elsbeth went over a list of songs and made certain that the midi file of the song she’d be teaching the kids this week was on her MP3 player. The plan was to play the tune through the audio system of the television used for the occasional Veggie Tales video. Jerry double-checked for the most recent photo and story from the missionary family who benefited from the offering collected by the kids. These items helped to make the lessons regarding the importance of missions and giving more personal for the kids. It gave them a sense of who and how they were helping.

“By the way, yummy,” Jerry said after washing down the last of his scone with some Earl Grey tea.

“Thanks. Did you check to make sure all the disciples are present and accounted for?”

“Yes and yes they are. I haven’t seen this flannelgraph kit in twenty years and it seems to be remarkably complete.”

“I’m sure there have been replacements made over the years. Just make sure you use the proper characters for the story. The kids will notice.”

“Are you joking? Even though they have different names on the backside, they all look the same. And being able to read that tiny print at a moment’s notice was much easier when I only had one lens to look through instead of three.”

They double-checked the number of modified garbage bags and had made sure earlier in the week that there was plenty of plastic tablecloth material at church. Elsbeth relabeled a crucial item from the pantry while Jerry broke into the stash of baby wipes they had been accumulating for the past six months in preparation for Maddie’s baby shower. After placing the scones in a large freezer bag, they convinced themselves they were as prepared as they could be and went to bed.



Prayer time always took up a large percentage of the class. Pets, parents, friends and sniffles all received detailed consideration. And when it came time for the new worship song to be learned, each child sang in his or her own key, but each strove to make a joyful noise.

When Elsbeth came to the front of the group to tell the latest story from their missionary family, the girls became noticeably excited. One of the facts passed on to children by parents who had attended Elsbeth’s class a score of years ago was that when Elsbeth told the missions story, she also chose girls to collect the offering.

“Abbie and Grace, would you mind collecting our offering today?” Elsbeth asked as Jerry began preparations for the morning lesson. As the girls came up to take the baskets, they looked at each other and held a silent conversation. By the time they reached the front, they had worked out who would pray. Elsbeth really enjoyed this moment and the simplicity of the prayers.

“Lord, thank you for sending people to do your work. Now take this money and use it to help them do your work. Amen,” Grace said softly. As the $3.17 was collected, Jerry moved his flannelgraph setup front and center.

“Who can tell me what was special about last Sunday?” he asked as he began placing figures on the board.

“It was Easter. That was when Jesus rose from the dead and we got lots of balloons,” four-year-old Tyler replied.

Three years earlier, someone had the crazy idea that a celebration of the resurrection of Christ needed something really special and had pumped forty dollars worth of helium into several hundred balloons that read, “He is risen indeed!” After shaking hands with the pastor, everyone received a handful of balloons and was asked to gather just outside.

The pastor gave a very brief homily explaining the history of the “He is risen/ He is risen, indeed” salutation early believers used to affirm the fact of the resurrection and identify themselves as Christians. He then spoke the first half of the greeting and as everyone replied, they all relaxed their grip on the ribbons tied to the balloons.

This year he had waited for a break in the traffic before speaking the greeting for the sake of safety because in previous years, brakes locking up at the sight of hundreds of balloons floating across the roadway had been a common event.

“That’s right. Last week you talked about the angel at the tomb and the women who came to prepare Jesus’ body for burial and how happy they were when they found out he was alive. This week we will talk about some other people Jesus appeared to.”

He moved the kids through the “road to Emmaus” story and how the travelers didn’t recognize their companion until he broke bread with them. Then he hustled the flannel figures back to Jerusalem where they told the disciples of their experience on the road with Jesus. When Jesus suddenly arrived in the midst of the figures on the board, Jerry asked one of the home schooled kids with accelerated reading skills to read Luke 24:37-43, Bible verses he had written on the blackboard earlier that morning.

“But they were terrified and frightened, and supposed they had seen a spirit. And He said to them, ‘Why are you troubled? And why do doubts arise in your hearts? Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself. Handle Me and see, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see I have.’ When He said this, He showed them His hands and His feet. And while they still disbelieved for joy, and wondered, He said unto them, ‘Have you anything to eat?’ So they gave Him a piece of broiled fish and some honeycomb. And He took it and ate it in their presence.”

“Thank you, Lisa. So, they were frightened when they saw Jesus. They weren’t expecting to see him alive and they thought they were looking at a ghost. But when he spoke to them, showed them his feet and hands and then ate some fish and honey, they knew it was really him. Let’s look at how they reacted. What does the Bible say they did? How do you ‘disbelieve for joy’?”

“Is that like when you come into the living room Christmas morning and see all the presents, and you just can’t believe it?” Abbie wondered.

“Yes, it is very much like that,” Jerry said, impressed by her insight. “Why do you think they were joyful to see Jesus?”

“Because they thought he was dead?”

“Yes, he wasn’t with them anymore. Does anyone recognize this?” he asked and placed the Ark of the Covenant on the board beneath the figure of Jesus.

With surprisingly few reminders, the kids identified the ark. Jerry reminded them that the ark had represented God’s presence with the Jewish people.

“There was one time when the ark was captured by the Philistines, and that made the Israelites feel like God had left them. The priest Eli fell dead when he heard the ark had been taken; and his daughter-in-law, who was having a baby when the news of the capture of the Ark was received, named her son Ichabod, a name that means ‘the glory has departed’. But when the ark was returned seven months later, they had a great celebration. You always feel good when God is close by.”

“But the ark wasn’t God, was it?”

“You’re right, it wasn’t,” Jerry said, fully anticipating the question. “But just like there are some things that stand for our country and we would feel bad if people didn’t treat them with respect, the Jews had some things that stood for their relationship with God, and the ark was one of them. Imagine how sad we would feel if someone stole the Statue of Liberty.”

“Can they do that?”

“Probably not. Now Jesus didn’t just represent God. He was God’s son. So the disciples were very sad when Jesus died, but when he came back, they were joyful. Abbie said joy is like what you feel on Christmas morning. Is that more than just being happy?” Jerry asked and nodded to Elsbeth, who moved into the kitchen to warm up scones. The group split pretty evenly on whether or not joy was the same as being happy.

“Alright Grace, when you were chosen to take up the offering, you felt happy. Correct?”

“Oh yes I did.”

“Did anyone else feel happy because you did?”

She looked at the boys who had seemed disappointed over not being asked and said, “No.”

“That’s because happiness is an emotion. Any emotion is limited to the person who is feeling it. But joy comes from somewhere else. The apostle Paul listed it as a fruit of the Spirit. That makes it something that comes from God. Joy spills outside its container and no matter how hard you try to control it, covers whatever is nearby. Let me tell you all a story about what joy does.”

Elsbeth moved to the two foot by three foot rectangular opening in the wall between the kitchen and the room the kids were in and relived the story Jerry was telling. Though it was necessary for him to leave out many of the facts, Elsbeth vividly remembered every detail.

Grace’s parents had been the oldest kids in the first collection of children Elsbeth and Jerry had in Sunday school two decades earlier. They had grown up together in church and school and no one was surprised when their good friendship blossomed into a lifelong commitment. They married young and tried for years to have children. When it became obvious there were problems that fertility specialists couldn’t successfully address, Elsbeth in particular and the church as a body had grieved with them and prayed that the Lord would bless their desire to be parents.

Nearly a year later those prayers were answered. A representative from Gift of God Ministries let them know that they had a baby. Six days after Grace was born and the birth mother signed the papers, the young family entered the church and all ‘disbelieved for joy’. As they made the rounds and introduced everyone to their daughter, the joy multiplied. The pastor made a point of changing the order of the worship music and had the congregation sing only the second verse of the Gaither tune Because He Lives. On that occasion, it went: How sweet to hold a newborn baby, and feel the pride and joy she gives. But greater still the calm assurance, this child can face uncertain days because He lives.

And there wasn’t a dry eye in the sanctuary.

“So joy always reflects a fullness of life as only God can give it. But joy always goes beyond its starting point. Just as each of you gave joy to your parents when you were born, someday your children will give you joy. And the joy the disciples got from knowing Jesus was alive and that their sins had been forgiven has traveled from person to person until it got to us two thousand years later. Let’s pray. Lord, we thank you for the joy that comes from knowing you. Help us to share this joy with others. Thank you for our snack. Bless this food and go with us every day this week. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

As the group moved to the round table, Jerry carefully slipped a garbage bag with head and arm holes over each of them. After everyone was seated and slightly confused, Jerry moved to the kitchen opening and grabbed the tray of milk. Elsbeth walked in with the warm pre-split scones and placed a plate with one scone and one plastic spoon in front of each child.

“What kind of biscuits are these? And they don’t taste like fish, do they?” they all wondered but only Tyler asked.

“No, Tyler, they just look like fish. These are scones. They are a sourdough biscuit that my mother made all the time when I was a little girl in England,” Elsbeth offered. “And this is the proper spread for eating with a scone.”

She had placed a wrap of duct tape around the outside of the honey jar and labeled it JOY.

“I would like you all to remember what Jerry told you about joy when you put the honey on your scone.”

A panicked look crossed the faces of the younger children, who knew what was likely to happen, but were instructed not to worry.

As the golden design formed on the plastic tablecloth, Jerry and Elsbeth watched with interest and sipped tea. What began as concern on the part of the kids turned into laughter once they understood the point of the snack. Soon they were trying to identify shapes in the honey streams on the table.

Jerry checked his watch and broke open the package of baby wipes. As he and Elsbeth methodically cleaned faces and hands, footsteps and voices were heard outside the door. All the kids knew that sound was a reliable signal that Sunday school time was over and it was time to move to the sanctuary. And because they were still occupied with cleanup, Jerry and Elsbeth didn’t notice the door open and close once.

“Grace, how did you get all sticky?” mom asked with surprise immediately after Grace placed a hand on either of her mother’s cheeks. “Did you leave class without getting cleaned up?”

“Mommy, I’m not sticky. I’m joyful!”

Her mother, always prepared for such surprises, removed a plastic bag containing several damp paper towels from her purse. She quickly and effectively dealt with the sticky situation as Grace explained the reason she was sharing her joy.

When Elsbeth arrived in the foyer with baby wipes in hand, she found Grace’s parents laughing by the coat rack and Grace pouting next to the literature table.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” she asked as she inspected the escapee.

“I tried to share my joy with Mommy, but she wiped it off.”

“Grace, I’m sure she wasn’t wiping it off. I think she was rubbing it in.”

“Oh,” Grace said thoughtfully. “Okay. Daddy, pick me up?”

Elsbeth caught sight of her husband’s loafers amidst the crowd of legs moving toward the sanctuary, stood and turned to face him.

“I heard that, Beth,” he said, cupped one of her cheeks in his hand and gave her a kiss.

“And what was that for?”

“That was for showing me what a great grandma you’re going to be.”

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