A FEAST PREPARED

A FEAST PREPARED

“Something smells mighty good.”

“Hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

“You always say that, and it always does. Where’s Pearl?”

Sally Denton came out of the kitchen to welcome her husband Carl home from work. “Hang on to your hat. She told me a while ago she was going over to the church.”

“She finally decided to go to the cemetery I guess.”

“She just said church.” Sally opened the door to the hall closet for Carl to hang up his coat. As always, he draped it over a chair instead.

“I’m sure I’ll be doing something outside after supper. No use prying this coat in and prying it out again.” Carl put Sally’s right hand up to his lips and kissed it, as was his custom. “I always asked you to have patience with your cousin.”

“I don’t recall your asking. I do recall some telling.”

“You know when I tell you to do something, I’m really just asking. Got to keep up my masculine image, you know. Head of the house.”

“I guess that’s why you always refuse to hang up your coat.”

“I hang it up when it’s ready to bed. Smells like pot roast.”

“I guess we’ve had enough bonding for the day.”

“There’s never enough bonding. But we can bond over pot roast, can’t we?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Pearl?’

“Why don’t we say Grace and then I’ll go to the church to see what’s up with your cousin.”

Knowing how Pearl felt about saying Grace and knowing what she’d been through, Sally and Carl always prayed over their meal well before it was on the table. It was Sally’s turn.

Dear Lord, Thank you for all the blessings you have bestowed on us. Thank

you for any adversity we face. We know adversity brings us down to earth

when we’ve been flying too high. Most of all, Lord, bless those who don’t know

what it’s like to fly. Amen

“That’s definitely not the kind of Grace you’d say in front of Pearl.”

“I’m not sure I could say a Grace that would meet with her approval. Perhaps a Quaker-style Grace. A moment of silence.”

“I hate to sound so selfish after Grace, but I’m hungry.”

“I never would have guessed. Let me get everything ready while you go look for Pearl.”

“I knew I’d need to put that coat back on.”

Carl arrived at the church building. On entering the entrance hall – he called it the entry hall but some called it the narthex, too clinical sounding for him, and some called it the vestibule, too Roman for him – he realized how strange it was to be at the church this time of day. It was quiet. Over the central double doors to the sanctuary hung a cross-stitched plaque prepared by the long-time organist and choir director, Pansy Potter.

Miss Potter, called that even though she was married, served the church from the time her feet could barely touch the organ pedals until a month before her death. What she lacked in native talent, she more than made up for with hard work and dedication. As an encouragement for congregants to enter the sanctuary quietly, she created the plaque with the following words:

Welcome all to this house of worship.

Kindly remove your outer raiments

and greet each other with warmth and love.

Upon entering the sanctuary, be prepared for

to feast on God’s word.

Members of the church were so touched that when the building was remodeled, additions were made to the entrance hall, two large side areas allowed folks to deposit coats, umbrellas, boots and other “outer raiments.” There was also plenty of room for all to “greet each other with warmth and love.”

Carl looked at other plaques that graced the walls of the entry way. Bible verses that meant something special to congregants had been cross-stitched by the men of the church. When this idea had been first suggested, most of the men balked at doing women’s work. The women then suggested a trade off. They could do yard work and basic repairs. This became an annual event.

Carl opened one of the doors to the sanctuary slowly and cautiously. The room was was bathed in late afternoon light. Fine particles of illuminated dust created a touch of mystery. He scanned the pews and noticed Pearl sitting at the back left. Her head was facing forward and her eyes seemed to be closed. An open hymnal rested on her lap. It was the most rested looking he'd ever seen her. Rather than disturb her, he retreated back into the entry way.

After about five minutes, the door from the sanctuary to the entry way opened. Pearl walked out and saw Carl in one of the side areas. She walked over to him.

“Shocked?” she asked.

“In a way.”

“I hadn’t been in that room since Dan’s funeral. You surely remember I refused to come to Dempsey’s funeral.”

Carl didn’t know quite what to say, so he said nothing.

“I have no idea why I decided to come here today. It just felt right. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been a heathen a long time and I’m not about to change my spots. No pre-death confession for this lady.”

“No one’s asking you to do anything you don’t feel compelled to do.”

“Don’t bother. When I came into the church, the entrance hall – I always liked the term ‘vestibule’ for some reason – looked different. I didn’t remember the large side areas.”

“They were added about twelve years ago.”

“I remember all the construction but couldn’t envision the changes nor was I curious about them. I like it.”

“This was done out of love for Miss Potter. You remember her, don’t you?”

“Who could forget her? A lovely lady.”

“What about the sanctuary?”

“It seemed about the same until I really took a look at it. Back when I was a child and came here, it was always filled with people and flowers and all. The sanctuary itself was lost on my nine-year-old eyes. Now, I had it all to myself. Well, according to some, not quite all to myself.”

“I guess you were in here quite a while?”

“I got to witness the day beginning to fade. ‘Abide with me, fast falls the evening tide.’ The windows are so sparkling clear that the ebbing sun pouring through them was touching. Let’s sit if you don’t mind. I know you probably came over to fetch me for supper but, can we?”

“Naturally.” Pearl and Carl sat so they could take in the cross-stitched Bible verses.

“I sat in the back pew so I could have a good view of it all. It was nice not being crammed between adults who would give me nasty looks if I even looked as though I was going to fidget. I took a hymnal from the rack and thumbed through it, searching for some of my favorites. I’m glad you’re using the same hymnal.”

“They’re actually about ten years old, but it’s the same basic hymnal. There’s something about familiarity that is comforting to many people.”

“I could still hear Miss Potter accompanying us – no leading us – in the hymn singing. That tiny dynamo expressed every note and word. My little mind loved the ideas of ‘Blessed assurance,’ ‘Be Thou my vision,’ and ‘A Mighty Fortress.’ I wasn’t too keen on ‘The Old Rugged Cross,’ or ‘I’m saved, saved, saved.’ My favorite was ‘It is well with my soul.’ It was all well and good until that day when the deacons stood at the entrance to keep out black people. That wasn’t ‘well with my soul.’ No warm, loving greetings for them. The gates to the fortress were closed. That began my crawl away from the church. It wasn’t until I was an adult and the ‘storms of life started raging’ and never seemed to stop, that I stopped.”

“You’ve weathered many storms, Pearl.”

“I tried ‘leaning on Jesus’ but kept falling. Where was the safety net? Mom dies when I’m fourteen. Dad goes crazy without her and has to be put away when I’m eighteen. I marry Dan, in the church, at nineteen. He’s killed a week after my twenty-second birthday. Our precious son Dempsey dies at the age of five. I develop arthritis so painful I can barely move my hands. It’s been as if I’ve been experiencing the trials of Job. The problem is, I’d washed myself of the church after Dan. There was no faith to renounce. No God to curse. No turning back. I had to lean on myself.”

“No one denies what you’ve been through.”

“We won’t mention what I did six years ago. It was the only mistake I ever consciously and deliberately made.”

“You survived.”

“You’ve always been able to look past my whining and whimpering. Sometimes self pity is the only emotion you can count on.” Pearl reached for Carl’s hand. “You and Sally and so many others have been so nice to me. I shouldn’t unload on you like this.”

“Well, since you don’t believe in God, we’re the very people you should unload on.”

“I have noticed some black people going into the church. I hope they’ve been well received and don’t feel as though they have to sit in a certain section.”

“Some things take more time than they should. Like those cross-stitched Bible verses hanging in the entry way, things aren’t perfect and never will be on this earth. But things are better. Latrice Brunson is the best Sunday School teacher I’ve ever had. We stopped segregating Sunday School classes by gender about six years ago.”

Pearl stood up and waved for Carl to do the same. “I know you’re ready to get home to Sally and supper. Let’s head out.”

As they walked away from the church, Pearl paused and turned to look at the building. By now, a full moon was illuminating the front, from steps to steeple.

“I really enjoyed thinking about those favorite hymns of my childhood and singing them to myself. Truth be told, I love them more than the Bible. They may be second-hand scripture but I’ve always felt I truly knew the people who wrote those verses and wrote the music. They were experiencing what I wanted to experience. I loved my childhood faith. I never could be promoted to adult faith. I think people would be better off just keeping their early faith. Jesus was right when he said ‘suffer the little children.’ I think I remember Paul saying something about ‘putting away childish things.’ I’m not so sure I agree with that.”

“That’s an interesting observation, Pearl. I sort of agree with you in a way.”

“Not enough to recommend me as a Sunday School teacher, I bet.”

The laughed as they began their walk again.

“You’re always welcome to go back to the church any time, Pearl.”

“Don’t look to see me on Sundays.”

“Any time, I said.”

“I assume you and Sally said Grace already, as is your custom.”

“We can say it again when we get around the table.”

“No. One Grace is sufficient. I gave thanks just before I left the sanctuary. There’d been a feast prepared for me and I was truly thankful. The Lord didn’t have to MAKE me say it, either.”