The pre-Sunday School conversation today focused on squirrel hunting again.  Bob L. usually gets his limit every time he goes.  In fact, he has already killed 91 squirrels this season, and described at great length his new method of deep frying them.  Makes your mouth water, and yes, he also is a fellow connoisseur of squirrel brains.

Helen and Austin B. had lots of good things to say about the prayer conference they attended yesterday in West Memphis.  While they were there, they saw O'Neal and Tink D. from FCC Sherwood, and swapped kind stories about the new interim pastor at Weiner.  My reputation goeth before me.

The Sunday School lesson focused on the twelve stones taken from the River Jordan and placed for a memorial to remember the crossing into the Promised Land.  It was the second time God parted the waters for them to cross over.  Various members observed that the Bible is certainly a memorial to the workings of God through the ages.  But some allowed as how (which being translated means, "said") some outstanding pastors of days gone by have served as memorial stones of significant spiritual events in the church.  Helen remembered Norman P. who baptized her back in 1932 when she was 11.  Others spoke fondly of Fred P. and John J..  Somebody needs to track these men down (the ones who are still alive) and tell them that they are still held in high regard so many years later.  But then I suspect that pastors grow better and better the more years they are removed from a church.  It's always the pastor we have now that doesn't measure up.

Since the lectionary text for the day was about the rich man and Lazarus, I thought it an excellent opportunity to take my guitar and sing "The Rich and the Poor" for the children's sermon.  The children (three kids aged 5, 4, and 2) sat stone faced, but the adults in the congregation cracked up at the humor of the song.  I was a little surprised that I didn't get accused of speaking in tongues on the chorus which goes, "Yuaz-uray, Yuaz-uray, Alli alli illium yuaz-uray."  But the verses are fun:

A rich man lived in the city of Jerusalem
He wore a silk hat and his coat was very sprucium.

One day there came to his door a human wreckium
He wore a bowler hat with the brim around his neckium

The poor man begged for a piece of bread and cheesium
The rich man said he'd call the policium.

The poor man died and went up to heavium,
He danced with the angels till half-past elevium.

The rich man died and he went to shiolium,
Sat all day on a red hot coalium.

Said to the devil, "It's getting very hottium,
Wish I had a whiskey and a sodium."

Devil said, "This is no hotellium,
Just an ordinary, common old hellium."

The moral of the story is: Riches are no jokium,
We'll all go to heaven 'cause we're so stony brokium.

Hey!  They liked it.  And it has a vague, far away similarity to the story Jesus told.  Of course, the children didn't get it at all, but they thought playing the guitar was cool.

I may have heard it wrong, but during the prayer request time, it sure sounded like Charles C. said, "Let's remember those folks in Hades who had the hurricane go through."  He meant "Haiti."  I thought, "Unending fire, hurricane – what's the difference?  Sounds like hell to me."

Probably the best part of the sermon was when I related this parody of the 23rd Psalm that my mother-in-law recently sent to me by e-mail:
The Twenty-Third Pound
My appetite is my shepherd
I always want.
It maketh me to sit down and stuff myself
It leadeth me in paths of Burger King for a whopper
It destroyeth my shape,
Yea, though I knoweth I gaineth,
I will not stop eating,
For the food tasteth so good.
The ice cream and cookies,
They comfort me
When the table is spread before me,
It exciteth me,
For I knoweth that soon I shall dig in,
As I filleth my plate continuously,
My clothes runneth smaller,
Surely bulges and weight shall follow
Me all the days of my life,
And I will be fat forever.

After church, I was invited to lunch at Austin and Helen B.'s house.  It was another great meal of good country cooking with a one-dish, cook-it-during-church roast beef, carrots, onions, and potatoes followed up with wonderful banana pudding. Yum!  I'm gonna gain weight being an interim pastor.

Austin gave the me the guided tour of his metal-working shop where he built a 1/12 scale steam-driven locomotive with twelve boxcars.  Now this was a work of art and an endeavor of love.  You would think that he must have been a railroad man, but no, he was a farmer all his life.  He just likes railroading.  So he built a track all the way around his yard (probably 300 yards worth) and occasionally he has a load of school children come over for a free ride.  It was an operation worthy of any amusement park.

Helen is equally devoted to her hobby – ceramics.  She, too, has a full shop with loads of ceramics and three kilns.  She could easily make this into a business, but no, "it's just a hobby."  I like these people!  They know how to take their hobbies seriously.

Helen was today's designated elder to visit with the interim pastor, so after lunch, we headed out.  The first stop was Bill and Lucille B.  Bill has been in the hospital for back surgery this week.  Just got home from the hospital yesterday and was still in his pajamas.  So we got the lowdown on his automobile wreck in 1966 and every ache and pain he has had since then, culminating in severe back pains over the last few weeks leading to the surgery.  But now he is doing fine, looking forward to therapy tomorrow.  Bill is Church of Christ; Lucille is Disciples.  I've been running into a lot of those combinations in Weiner.  So I prayed thanking God for doctors and nurses and asked for continued healing, and we were on our way.

At the next stop, Lindy C. was a talker, a big talker.  It was one of those visits where you say, "Hello," then sit back and listen.  An hour later, you say a prayer and leave.

Well, poor Lindy has had a rough week, one that could have been featured on Jerry Springer.  Her husband (Church of Christ) lost his father this week after a long battle with cancer.  That comes on top of the severe marital problems they are having.  Seems Lindy has married twice, both times choosing wonderful fathers-in-law but lousy husbands.  "Looks like some of that would have rubbed off on the sons, doesn't it?" she observed.

Last Wednesday night at the funeral home, her husband's daughter, Darla, made a huge scene right in front of the rest of the mourners.  Yelled and screamed at poor Lindy, and shoved her out the door.  Neighbors have been calling Lindy all week long asking what all that yelling was about.

But Lindy has a brother and two sisters nearby, plus her own grown children who are all being very supportive.  She's going through a terrible time, but seems to have a lot of support and an amazing amount of emotional strength and clear-headedness.  She's gonna be fine when all this settles down.

Three times Lindy has tried to make it to church lately.  Got all the way to the door of the church and then just couldn't bring herself to go in.  Well, today she made it, but it was still uncomfortable for her.  So we talked a long time about how it seems that when it is hardest to go to church may be when we need it the most, like going to a funeral.  We have certain emotional stages we have to work through.  Church services often make us face the hard realities of life and think about some painful aspects of our lives, but they also provide the setting for healing to take place.

Well, it was just another day breaking the bread of life at a country church.