noise

Family, Faith, and Fun: Church Meetings Next Door

Many Saturdays , our neighbors held church meetings in their home. They probably served a meal and visited since the guests remained a great portion of the day.

Our unfenced backyards ran together. Children of all ages played freely between the two yards while their parents worshipped. My kids loved the party atmosphere, mingling freely with the kids.

We were adding an addition to our house at the time. Bud had his power tools set up in the open area of the addition. No doubt, the power tools were quite loud, impacting the service next door. It was unfortunate they were holding services on the day Bud had laid out to work but he had to work on his days off.

Nevertheless, sometimes we could hear their enthusiastic singing over Bud’s sawing. After a while, a lady took it upon herself to speak to Bud about the noise. Genially, Bud replied, “Oh, go right ahead. You’re not bothering me.” In a huff, she returned to the service next door.

Meanwhile, our children had been invited and went along to the service when the kids were called in. After about twenty minutes, my son John came casually ambling out. “How did you like church, son?” I asked.

“It was okay. I helped ‘em sing and listened to Mr. Bob talk a little, but when they got ready to bust the bread, I came home.”

A Hog a Day Part 15

 

Against his better judgment, when Billy was about eleven or twelve, Daddy relented and gave him permission to sit with his friend Kenny in church one Sunday. He’d always had an iron-clad rule that we had to sit together as a family way up in front on the third pew, but was somehow, Billy convinced him he could handle the challenge that day. 

Neither had reckoned with the devil super ball hiding in Billy’s pocket as he ecstatically took a seat next to his friend in the back row. All was well till that devil ball started sending Billy psychic impulses a few minutes into the sermon.  Unable to resist its lure, Billy took it The ball out, inspiring awe in Kenny.  They passed it silently between them a few times keeping their eyes straight ahead.  No one was the wiser.  Temptation got the better of Billy and he bounced the ball between his feet, catching it on the return.  There was a small plunk, but no great disturbance.  Emboldened by success, he had to push it. The slight plunk on the hardwood was noticeable, but since the boys kept their composure and stared straight ahead, the sermon continued.  It was going so well, Billy bounced it another time or two.  Of course, luck finally ran out and the hard rubber ball bounced and rolled down the slightly inclined pine floor, bumping a few supports and bouncing joyously along the way.  Daddy knew immediately who the culprit was, turned, and shot Billy the “look of death.”  Kenny, who enjoyed much more casual parenting struggled to stifle his hysteria.

That ball rolled and bounced, bounced and rolled.  The sound seemed deafening though Brother Robert, the preacher, never faltered in his sermon.  As the ball neared the dais, he stepped down, and scooped up the ball mid-bounce.  I had to admire his dexterity. I could see he had some natural athletic ability.  Without hesitation, he continued the sermon, walking in front of the dais and bouncing the ball.  Brother Robert held my attention as never before. Never missing a catch, he pocketed the little ball and went straight to altar call.  I truly prayed for Billy’s life.  I couldn’t imagine what his fate might be.  We finished church as always, filing out to greet the preacher at the door.

Surprisingly, Daddy didn’t kill Billy as expected.  Maybe it tickled his funny bone, though he never let on.  The next Sunday, Billy was in his usual seat on the third row, right next to Daddy.  He never got his superball back.