"Church Services" -- Closing Prayer

Brother Daniel Bingham dozed in his usual spot, at the end of the pew seven rows back from the pulpit, next to the window.
Brother Bob Bowen, the pastor of First Church, was droning on  about some little known scripture, in a sermon he'd rehashed late last night from one of his Seminary research papers in Homiletics a year ago.
Most of the audience was fighting to stay awake, nervously looking at their watches, and the kids were fidgeting as mothers tried to keep them quiet with coloring books. Almost everybody was sweating and the ladies were all waving themselves with the cheap hand fans with a photo of the local funeral home on them, Wilmer W. Williams. Brother Daniel, the oldest deacon in the church at 79, was not alone with his head nodding now and then to his chest, where it'd touch and he'd jerk it up.
The air-conditioning had quit yesterday, so the windows were cracked while three ceiling fans silently wobbling high overhead in the auditorium, barely stirring the hot August air.
Brother Bob had been going about 30 minutes now, and the congregation was getting irritated. When he'd been hired five months ago, it was because his lessons were always 20 minutes or less, he was full of energy and young, and he'd take less salary and was willing to relocated to the small town, a long drive from the city. They were excited because they'd be the first of the Sunday church-going crowd to get to the only restaurant open, Grace's Kitchen.
Now, besides being hot and miserable,  they were going to be late again... they could hear the cars starting at the Nazarene church across the street.
At the last deacon's meeting, Brother Daniel and the other deacons had expressed their discontent with how Brother Bob had changed since he'd arrived. He usually played golf all day Saturdays and sat up late at night watching those talk shows, sleeping late in the mornings. And his sermons had gone from 15 to 20 minutes to well over 30 minutes--sometimes as much as 45 minutes. Their complaints had had no effect.
Yesterday when the air conditioner broke down, he didn't discover it until late in the day after coming in from the golf course to hastily rewrite his research paper into something of a sermon. It was too late to call a repairman.
 When they arrived at the stifling hot church this morning, the deacons needed all their Christian religion to keep from losing their tempers. They agreed to meet that evening, when it was cooler, to do something. Then the deacons asked Brother Daniel to lead the closing prayer for that day--in spite of being the oldest, he knew how to lead a short prayer.
But he'd dozed off, and beside him, his wife Sister Lucinda was patiently fanning herself with one of the funeral home fans, patting the sweat off her forehead with a lace hanky.
Just then, Brother Daniel started snoring, loud enough to be heard for several pews. Some of the nearby kids snickered, and the men smirked. It was all Sister Lucinda could take, and she jabbed him in the ribs with her free elbow.
Brother  Daniel jerked and jumped to his feet, eyes shut,  and began praying loudly in his strong baritone voice, interrupting Brother Bob in mid-sentence, to the horror of sister Lucinda and the amusement of the congregation.
"Heavenly Father, thank you for this beautiful day and the lesson from your word. Watch over  us this week. Forgive us of our sins and at last in heaven save us. In Christ name, Amen."
Then he opened his eyes. Brother Bob had stopped talking. The kids giggled. The other deacons  grabbed the opportunity and said "Amen," in unison and the congregation headed for the doors, with Brother Bob just standing in the pulpit.
Brother Daniel looked sheepish and Sister Lucinda scowled in embarrassment. Another deacon walked by, on his way out the door. Smiling, he reached to shake hands and said, "Great closing prayer."

"Church services"--Introduction

"Give Brother Bob a ready recollection of what he has studied as he preaches your Word," Deacon Wayne, with eyes shut,  was praying from the pulpit when Harold Kelly slumped over in the pew, dead.

Sitting beside him, Sister Mary King heard the sound, opened her eyes and gasped. Deacon Wayne was still droning on at the front of the auditorium.  Her gasp caught the attention of another deacon, Samuel Lovett, who rose quietly, came over and checked  Kelly, and laid his head down in the pew. 

By this time, others in the surrounding pews had opened their eyes and were whispering. Deacon Lovett gingerly made his way to the podium and tugged Deacon Wayne's arm, interrupting the prayer and whispering that Kelly had died. Deacon Wayne then quickly recited, "Forgive us of our sins and at last in heaven save us. In the name of Jesus, Amen," so it would be properly heard on high.

Brother Bob Bowen had risen from his front pew in First Church, gone to the office to call an ambulance, and returned to tell the congregation that services were dismissed. Communion would be served at 6 pm that evening and that it would probably be best that the pot luck lunch be served as a dinner instead.

Kelly, 89 years old, had been laid on the cushions of the pew and Sister King was nearby weeping. Deacon Wayne was upset that his prayer had been interrupted, as was Brother Bob, who regretted not being able to preach today's lesson from the Sermon on the Mount about living today, and worried that the collection plate not being passed would hurt the church budget.

"At least there's no doubt he's gone to heaven," said Deacon Lovett. "I wish we could all go like that," said Sister King.

The children of the congregation, at first disappointed at missing out on the lunch, were already outside running around,  happy to get to go home early.

When the ambulance arrived, siren blaring and lights flashing, it interrupted the services of the Nazarene and Christian churches across the street, irritating those preachers as parishioners went outside to see what was going on.

Their children joined their friends across the street, laughing and happy to get out of boring church services. A few of the adults edged across the street as the First Church members filed out onto the lawn, asking in whispers about what had happened. As the ambulance attendants brought Kelly's body out on the gurney, adult scowls and  hissed "shhhs" silenced the children.

But as soon as the ambulance pulled away, the children were back running around, as the adults tried to shepherd them, complaining, back to their churches, and the pastors tried to coax the adults inside to the unfilled collection plates and unfinished sermons, even though it was almost noon.

To the relief and joy of the children, they all gave up as the First Church members headed for their parked cars, determined to beat the Sunday crowd to the town's only restaurant, Grace's Kitchen.

Astounding on July 4

"What was the most astounding thing you saw today," asked my wife Susan, about my drive into eastern Oklahoma County on July 4. I started to say nothing really...I'd gone to take photos of flags and a wooden caboose, and just to hunt. I came back with some photos, but nothing really remarkable, except time to myself to think and look.

But then it hit me. I was driving south on Sooner Road and turned west the wrong way on 36th Street. I went over the Canadian River bridge and came to something unexpected...a Buddhist temple. I drove by determined to turn around and take a photo, and at the corner, not a quarter mile from the temple was a Baptist church in Forest Park.

I thought... this symbolizes  what July 4 is all about... not a "Christian" nation, but a nation where people of all or no faiths can be welcome. People who are independent, and are free to follow their beliefs. Then I drove south to 23rd Street , through Spencer and Choctaw and east until I'd come to Harrah, giving up on finding anything else.

And there, getting ready to turn around, I saw the second most remarkable thing of the day in front of me. At the Harrah postoffice, Old Glory waves, but right under it was the POW MIA flag. It always attracts me, but you don't see many in this state...usually on homes of Vietnam vets who've lost buddies long ago. In New Mexico you see them everywhere, including over your head as you walk out of the Albuquerque airport. But here, in Harrah, some patriots have given the flag official designation.
Independence Day!

Road of memories

Wooden caboose at Choctaw, between the old Rock Island tracks and US 62. What stories could be told on what has now become a back road.. .

Our flag

A door at Taos Pueblo