The pastors I've come to know and respect are pretty incredible people. Authentic through and through, genuine to the core. Seekers of truth, the lot of them. If they can't do something, they tell you. If they can, they tell you that too. I have learned much from these people I work with and those I worship with as well. Knowing this.....
It was a dark and stormy day. The staff was inundated with tasks, challenging tasks. Mountains and mountains of sticky notes lay strewn along the main hallway. The mounds of paper pieces were connected with paths of spent staples. whew.The pressure was heavy, suffocating. Everybody had too much to do after returning from a convention the week before. Messages to return, letters to write, questions to answer....It all poured in, filled the building, and formed a stream that fed into the Pastor's office. The busy muck slid under his door, eeeeked in his windows, til there was absolutely no escape.
I went into his office to voice a cheery start to the day, and found him, frozen in front of his computer monitor, fingers experiencing major keyboard tachycardia. Random papers were possessed and floating about his head.. The Bible lay open on his desk, pages flipping faster than fast. He turned to me when I came in and I recognized the glazed look in his eyes. Call me Overwhelmed, the tearless pupils cried.
" Doing okay?"
" I'm overwhelmed. Being away is hard on the catch -up end of things.I have so many different things scheduled and now we have a big funeral I need to be working on, I need time to spend with the family,and my sermon isn't done yet..... lots of people to visit in the hospital, meetings to attend, and the painters are coming to paint my office today, too. I love my job, all of it, it is just an impossible matter of physically making it all fit together and today I am, well, you know. ....overwhelmed. Give me a few minutes to finish this and then we'll look at projects for the day, okay?" I looked over his desk and saw his To Do list. It was sweating-some of the small print was trying to bleed off the page.
"Sure, I'll give you a few." and I went into my office. I refilled the emergency stress jar of peanuts and chocolate that resides on my desk.
The phone rang, ER from a local hospital letting me know that a patient had just requested our minister be notified that she'd just been run over by a train-end of message. Did she say train?
What a quandry!! I didn't want to interrupt my boss, but even I knew this message was important.
I got up and gently knocked on his door. It trembled at my touch. I tiptoed in and stood over his desk. He was writing, frantically trying to complete something on the list. He never lost a swirl pen stroke. I waited. He wrote. I waited. He erased and wrote. Finally, I spoke.
" I wouldn't bother you, but someone just called and they've well,they've been run over by a train and wondered if you could come by......"I think that comment was what is commonly known as the "Last Straw".
Hearing my news, he stopped his scribbling. Without looking up, he held out his hand and I gently placed the message into his damp palm. he began mumbling to himself, then he looked at me with the genuine concern a parent gives a child in need.
" I don't know this member." He reviewed my ink scratchings again. "Train?"
" I don't recognize the name either, they aren't in our database, I think they have the wrong church, maybe. I've got a call into another church to see if maybe its them."
"Oh. Gosh.. even at that....they got hit by a train. Geesh, I should go see them."
I sat down and looked him in the eye. I pointed two fingers at him, then ping ponged them back and forth to my eyes then his, mine then his. Look look look. Look at me, think....What can you change to take just a little bit off of your schedule for today? Isn't there anything?"
He looked at his calendar intently.
"Well, I have a meeting with some prospective members. I will just have to cancel that"
Before I had a chance to say, 'wait a minute , give yourself a minute', he had dialed the phone and reached the voicemail of said prospects.
" I am terribly sorry to have to cancel, I want to meet with you and spend some time with you, but I've been away on business, and now that I'm back, I've got a lot of catch up going on,we've had an unexpected death in the congregation and a big funeral to plan, and i've just found out someone has been run over by a train, so if you don't mind, could you call me back with some optional times?
He hung up, slightly relieved, greatly guiltridden and when he looked to me, his personal support- admin support, all I could give him was uncontrollable laughter. I honestly thought I would need to go home and change if he did not stop delivering excuses into the phone.
"What is funny? "
I said," I was just thinking how would I feel if I got your message? Not only have you been out of town, but the funeral- BIG funeral and the icing on the cake- hit. by. a. train??? I think I might be inclined to call you back and just say, 'If you didn't want to talk to us, why not just say that?' It sounds so impossible. I just think it is comedic. "
The tension broken, we both laughed out loud. On this day, truth was so over the top - Fiction didn't have a chance.
The happy ending is that the people did reschedule and as far as I can tell, things went well. For those of you who keep a running list of excuses, take note.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
minimizing tactics
The structure of each church varies, but when you step back and look at all the sugar cubes that make a church work like a well oiled machine,piled up, you've still got a pile of dissolving grainy cubes, or in this case, I am referring to the overabundance of committees.
Some would say, "But Church Chick, everyone knows that it takes a village...." So I guess it takes a village of committees to feed the congregation. Ah,yes. Let's get every member involved. Let's assign a spot for all 3,899 church members on a committee or some distant relative of one.
Figuring the ins and outs of committees can sometimes make me feel like pulling out an old blanket, throwing it over a card table and climbing inside. The committee system is its own multi-tasking monster. I mean you have to go, and sit still, act like a grown up, on a regular basis. It's tough, very very tough. But in some ways necessary. to a point. There is no question about there being an over abundance of committee reproduction in this country. You may wonder why no one is taking a strong and visible stand on this important issue? Well, in the first place, I couldn't find anyone who wasn't already over committeed to get on board, and in the second place, well there really is no second place, now is there?
I've heard there's an underground effort working towards anilating the complications of over committee-izing the church.
I'm here to tell you that you can breathe easier, as I have seen some of these tactics in action and baby, we're on our way...
Some committees collect large groups of people, then break them down into sub-committees, and then further into the flu-like ad-hoc committees. If you create enough subs, the committee itself implodes into its own core and evaporates.
Another tactic is to use Handout Strategy-create illegible handouts, perhaps in handscript, or another language. This type of offering opens the floor for broad interpretation. " I thought this said we'd be here NEXT week, not tonight, sorry I missed it.." or " I'm processing the agenda right now, can we postphone the meeting til next month?" If enough people miss enough meetings, you can eventually ask the age old question, " If no one comes will it still be a committee?"
If you can't reduce the numbers of groups to meet, then the other option is to try to cut down on the time the meeting is sucking out of the environment...
For committees such as finance or budget committees, a sure fire way to break up a meeting in a hurry is to create a microscopic spread sheet. I have a friend who has a degree in that skill. He never has trouble finding work, because with that amazing talent listed on his resume, businesses of all sort recognize the value of that ability and they often time fuss and quarrel over who shall hire him first... I mean consider this- You are accustomed to spending a good hour and a half each month going line by line through the budget. Those who haven't fallen asleep by the time you get to the end, are usually seeing double. Add the confusion such a task creates, and you've got a room full of cross-eyed, mixed up committee dis-members.
So, this guy, this amazing friend of mine, has come up with a perfect solution.
He creates little spreadsheets. little. little
He can put the entire US budget into a spreadsheet the size of a stick of gum. Oh, not impressed, yet? Well, think Trident Gum, Dentyne, or.. how about chicklets? Remember those little chews?
Yeah, picture a line item on that, buddy.
This process speeds up the budget part of any meeting considerably. If you have to meet, might as make it quick and productive, right? No one questions numbers they can't see? So the meeting breezes on.
I think this has really shortened some time, and has no doubt increased business at the local opthamology office.
Some would say, "But Church Chick, everyone knows that it takes a village...." So I guess it takes a village of committees to feed the congregation. Ah,yes. Let's get every member involved. Let's assign a spot for all 3,899 church members on a committee or some distant relative of one.
Figuring the ins and outs of committees can sometimes make me feel like pulling out an old blanket, throwing it over a card table and climbing inside. The committee system is its own multi-tasking monster. I mean you have to go, and sit still, act like a grown up, on a regular basis. It's tough, very very tough. But in some ways necessary. to a point. There is no question about there being an over abundance of committee reproduction in this country. You may wonder why no one is taking a strong and visible stand on this important issue? Well, in the first place, I couldn't find anyone who wasn't already over committeed to get on board, and in the second place, well there really is no second place, now is there?
I've heard there's an underground effort working towards anilating the complications of over committee-izing the church.
I'm here to tell you that you can breathe easier, as I have seen some of these tactics in action and baby, we're on our way...
Some committees collect large groups of people, then break them down into sub-committees, and then further into the flu-like ad-hoc committees. If you create enough subs, the committee itself implodes into its own core and evaporates.
Another tactic is to use Handout Strategy-create illegible handouts, perhaps in handscript, or another language. This type of offering opens the floor for broad interpretation. " I thought this said we'd be here NEXT week, not tonight, sorry I missed it.." or " I'm processing the agenda right now, can we postphone the meeting til next month?" If enough people miss enough meetings, you can eventually ask the age old question, " If no one comes will it still be a committee?"
If you can't reduce the numbers of groups to meet, then the other option is to try to cut down on the time the meeting is sucking out of the environment...
For committees such as finance or budget committees, a sure fire way to break up a meeting in a hurry is to create a microscopic spread sheet. I have a friend who has a degree in that skill. He never has trouble finding work, because with that amazing talent listed on his resume, businesses of all sort recognize the value of that ability and they often time fuss and quarrel over who shall hire him first... I mean consider this- You are accustomed to spending a good hour and a half each month going line by line through the budget. Those who haven't fallen asleep by the time you get to the end, are usually seeing double. Add the confusion such a task creates, and you've got a room full of cross-eyed, mixed up committee dis-members.
So, this guy, this amazing friend of mine, has come up with a perfect solution.
He creates little spreadsheets. little. little
He can put the entire US budget into a spreadsheet the size of a stick of gum. Oh, not impressed, yet? Well, think Trident Gum, Dentyne, or.. how about chicklets? Remember those little chews?
Yeah, picture a line item on that, buddy.
This process speeds up the budget part of any meeting considerably. If you have to meet, might as make it quick and productive, right? No one questions numbers they can't see? So the meeting breezes on.
I think this has really shortened some time, and has no doubt increased business at the local opthamology office.
"Every time a bell rings..an angel gets her wings"
... every time the phone rings and there's a fax tune on the other end, another parishoner is in need- headed for the white board
and every time the fax machine gives birth to an unwanted advertisement, somebody's hard drive loses data
and every time the obnoxious church door bell rings, 2 seconds of patience jump ship.
and every time the Pastor passes by, the wake of his/her heartfelt committment makes the world a little bit better place to be.
and every time the fax machine gives birth to an unwanted advertisement, somebody's hard drive loses data
and every time the obnoxious church door bell rings, 2 seconds of patience jump ship.
and every time the Pastor passes by, the wake of his/her heartfelt committment makes the world a little bit better place to be.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Religion Buffet-style
I think it is a wonder that we humans can find the ingenuity to have our needs met- when those needs are known. Say for instance, if I needed an idea for a child's sunday school lesson, the first person I'd approach would be the children's minister, who else?
Sometimes, people can really climb out of the box on having those needs met. Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
Choosing a church isn't as easy as it chirps. I mean, one church may have a killer Sunday School program, but the sermons lull you to sleep. Another might offer delicious Bible Study classes, but the WEdnesday night dinners leave something to be desired. So, say someone has strong feelings in many areas, they might participate in several church families. There are many up sides to this... meeting more people, learning more comprehensively about God and Jesus, or other entity-types around the globe. The downside is the time involved. Carpool time for one thing, having to keep track of where you are at any given time. It's a bit much for me, but one really nice benefit would be when you are down and out or needing a little bit of congregational care. How must it feel to be surrounded by 4,5,or 6 representatives of Godly love in your time of need? Pretty good for the one in need, I'd think. Could be pretty surprising for the clergy. On the other hand, walking into a room with several other representatives creates a sense of worldly community. Me? personally, I'll stick with two. My families at work church and home church are tied together by a strong connection to God. For me, that's pretty darn good.
Sometimes, people can really climb out of the box on having those needs met. Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
Choosing a church isn't as easy as it chirps. I mean, one church may have a killer Sunday School program, but the sermons lull you to sleep. Another might offer delicious Bible Study classes, but the WEdnesday night dinners leave something to be desired. So, say someone has strong feelings in many areas, they might participate in several church families. There are many up sides to this... meeting more people, learning more comprehensively about God and Jesus, or other entity-types around the globe. The downside is the time involved. Carpool time for one thing, having to keep track of where you are at any given time. It's a bit much for me, but one really nice benefit would be when you are down and out or needing a little bit of congregational care. How must it feel to be surrounded by 4,5,or 6 representatives of Godly love in your time of need? Pretty good for the one in need, I'd think. Could be pretty surprising for the clergy. On the other hand, walking into a room with several other representatives creates a sense of worldly community. Me? personally, I'll stick with two. My families at work church and home church are tied together by a strong connection to God. For me, that's pretty darn good.
Pranks in-house
I like to find ways to invite the passers by to stop by my office. I like company, I guess. I also enjoy watching human nature in action, I like watching nature, as well. WE'll get to that later.
I keep a small white board attached to my office door and I call it the Joy board. The big parent white board is used for births,deaths,and illnesses. period. I thought it might be nice to have a board for the incidentals life brings into our path. So, we use it for things like children getting good grades, vacation celebrations, birthdays, just because stuff. The people who come by are interested in all of it.
I received a lovely photo in the mail a while ago, an ad for a photo agency. THe family photo looked like it could be you or your neighbor. Very real. I cut off the advertisment border and stuck it on my door. I hoped someone would come by and say, " Oh, there's the Jones', I haven
t seen them around church recently, wonder what they are doing..." or " Oh! I know them!! lovely family, what is their name again?" The picture brought about lots of hesitant moments. People would stop and look and think, then move on. I later found out that many of them were afraid they didn't know the family, so they just said nothing. One couple commented on the lovliness of the family pic and asked who they were. I got great joy from watching people come by and try to figure that picture out. Truth is, if I knew who they really were, I'd offer them an invitation to work church, as they seem to fit right in, anonymous or not. Oh, that's another unwritten job in our ever-growing CL job descrip. Keep the congregation on their toes whenever possible.
I keep a small white board attached to my office door and I call it the Joy board. The big parent white board is used for births,deaths,and illnesses. period. I thought it might be nice to have a board for the incidentals life brings into our path. So, we use it for things like children getting good grades, vacation celebrations, birthdays, just because stuff. The people who come by are interested in all of it.
I received a lovely photo in the mail a while ago, an ad for a photo agency. THe family photo looked like it could be you or your neighbor. Very real. I cut off the advertisment border and stuck it on my door. I hoped someone would come by and say, " Oh, there's the Jones', I haven
t seen them around church recently, wonder what they are doing..." or " Oh! I know them!! lovely family, what is their name again?" The picture brought about lots of hesitant moments. People would stop and look and think, then move on. I later found out that many of them were afraid they didn't know the family, so they just said nothing. One couple commented on the lovliness of the family pic and asked who they were. I got great joy from watching people come by and try to figure that picture out. Truth is, if I knew who they really were, I'd offer them an invitation to work church, as they seem to fit right in, anonymous or not. Oh, that's another unwritten job in our ever-growing CL job descrip. Keep the congregation on their toes whenever possible.
Stay in the moment
It is crucial for Church Ladies to remain in the moment. To be present at all times, and this task isn't always easy. I mean, there are many days when I sit down to complete a task and two digits into it the phone rings and that call takes me to another task, and then the mailman comes and the UPS guy is racing Fed Ex that day, so both boys come knocking and then the Pastor flies a paper airplane of his weekly thoughts for the newsletter across the hall to my office and the day is over and I go home and my children say, "what did you do today, you look so tired" and I can't for the life of me think of one single thing I did. That's just how it goes sometimes.
Parenting runs a very similar track. But that's another blog.
Juggling, multi-tasking, controlled chaos, call it what you will -the fact remains that someone needs to keep track of all that crud crawling around, and well, ladies, that someone is YOU.
I keep a chart on my desk where I write down everything as it happens, so I can go back and see what I missed later. It really helps, it does. It helps with most things, but the truth of the matter is that it doesn't help with blind piano tuners. Yes, you heard me.
We have 26 pianos in our building. Two years ago, there were only 14, but something happened, we don't know if it was the building renovations or if it was behaviour in the dead of night, but those pianos have now multiplied to 26 and 12 are baby grands, if you catch my drift. We have a delightful blind piano tuner who comes annually and spends a few weeks tuning those melodious wooden boxes. He likes to work alone, and he tunes in a most delightful way. He plays softly, repetitively, calmlyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I met him a few weeks ago for the first time. I accompanied him downstairs to the dungeon where he worked for a good hour on the lone piano there. I sat in a chair and actually was lulled to sleep by his work. I like cat naps, so it was a good thing, but then something happened.
I brought him upstairs, and carefully planted him in front of another box. The chaos of my job kicked in, and before I had him firmly parked, I had accumulated 3 or 4 more tasks to be done NOW. Ichecked my watch, left him tuning, and I returned to my desk where the daily storms were in full force tossing papers and calls all over the place. Time passed, or rather time escaped me. I heard a friend call out, "Lunch?" and I dropped what I was doing, realizing I was dizzy from hunger. We ate something quick and returned so I could get back to my mountain of busi-ness. I walked into the building and was met with the lilting melody of faint piano music. I immediately remembered the piano tuner and dropped my bag, ran down the hall to where I had left him. There he stood, just as I had left him, only now, he was playing songs. He spoke before I had a chance to catch my breath. " Ready?"
" I'm so sorry, I took so long, I am so sorry."
"No problem, it happens all the time- just take me to the next piano."
I delivered him and went back to my office where the maintenance guy was waiting for me.
"You'd forgotten him, didn't you? You forget he was even here?" He shook his head right at me.
" Yes, I feel so guilty, but yes, I did."
" I'll take him around, it's getting late in the day and we don't want him stuck here all night."
I pictured the church, late at night. Dark, lonely walls. and then, breaking the silence of dark comes a small voice from afar.... " helll000000?? hell0000000??? Is anybody there?"
Well, I tell you, sister. I broke right down. "Oh, yes. take him, please take him. It's the only way to go!"
Staying in the moment isn't always easy when you are pulled in different directions,so keep your backup handy. You might need help with important tasks sometimes.
Parenting runs a very similar track. But that's another blog.
Juggling, multi-tasking, controlled chaos, call it what you will -the fact remains that someone needs to keep track of all that crud crawling around, and well, ladies, that someone is YOU.
I keep a chart on my desk where I write down everything as it happens, so I can go back and see what I missed later. It really helps, it does. It helps with most things, but the truth of the matter is that it doesn't help with blind piano tuners. Yes, you heard me.
We have 26 pianos in our building. Two years ago, there were only 14, but something happened, we don't know if it was the building renovations or if it was behaviour in the dead of night, but those pianos have now multiplied to 26 and 12 are baby grands, if you catch my drift. We have a delightful blind piano tuner who comes annually and spends a few weeks tuning those melodious wooden boxes. He likes to work alone, and he tunes in a most delightful way. He plays softly, repetitively, calmlyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I met him a few weeks ago for the first time. I accompanied him downstairs to the dungeon where he worked for a good hour on the lone piano there. I sat in a chair and actually was lulled to sleep by his work. I like cat naps, so it was a good thing, but then something happened.
I brought him upstairs, and carefully planted him in front of another box. The chaos of my job kicked in, and before I had him firmly parked, I had accumulated 3 or 4 more tasks to be done NOW. Ichecked my watch, left him tuning, and I returned to my desk where the daily storms were in full force tossing papers and calls all over the place. Time passed, or rather time escaped me. I heard a friend call out, "Lunch?" and I dropped what I was doing, realizing I was dizzy from hunger. We ate something quick and returned so I could get back to my mountain of busi-ness. I walked into the building and was met with the lilting melody of faint piano music. I immediately remembered the piano tuner and dropped my bag, ran down the hall to where I had left him. There he stood, just as I had left him, only now, he was playing songs. He spoke before I had a chance to catch my breath. " Ready?"
" I'm so sorry, I took so long, I am so sorry."
"No problem, it happens all the time- just take me to the next piano."
I delivered him and went back to my office where the maintenance guy was waiting for me.
"You'd forgotten him, didn't you? You forget he was even here?" He shook his head right at me.
" Yes, I feel so guilty, but yes, I did."
" I'll take him around, it's getting late in the day and we don't want him stuck here all night."
I pictured the church, late at night. Dark, lonely walls. and then, breaking the silence of dark comes a small voice from afar.... " helll000000?? hell0000000??? Is anybody there?"
Well, I tell you, sister. I broke right down. "Oh, yes. take him, please take him. It's the only way to go!"
Staying in the moment isn't always easy when you are pulled in different directions,so keep your backup handy. You might need help with important tasks sometimes.
Seeing Straight
Church Chicks need to know how to do lots of things, sure fire. One important task is writing. Writing quick notes to slide under the Pastor's door when you can't tell if he's in there with someone or if he is not in there at all or if he's in there alone. Those of us who remain a little shell shocked from disturbing our boss one too many times via the phone intercom will often times resort to using the slide-under-the-door method of communication. That is only one writing task, however. Others include-quick pen phone messages, and making last minute signs to hold up to the Pastor who is still on the phone after 30 minutes. -your wife is still waiting- is an example of an important sign one might use on occasion.
We are also the ones who find ourselves writing on the white board. The hallway outside my office holds up an information board.The white board says who is sick or dying or giving birth. These bits of info need to be clear and straight. As a Church Chick who does not own such a skill as seeing straight, my messages on the white board tend to travel much as a path up and around a steep mountain looks. ... my writing trails with bumps and sudden jerks about as much as a teen driver does as she drives the family car. You can see my dilemma.
The congregation, or anyone for that matter who enters the main hallway, passes by that sign to stay in the "know" and if the message isn't clear, there can be problems.
" Shirley Gufstark is the proud parent of... ? My God, it's a miracle!! The woman is 89 years old!!"
"Richard Blane has just been moved to Rex Rehab? The child's 2 days old! what rehab could he be having?"
You can see the Inquirer News potential ... It is an ongoing struggle for me and I'm happy to report, apparently for others in this biz as well. I am here to tell you that white boards are now equipped to help the slight of sighted. I purchased a new one this week that has faint lines and dots on it. You can't see them in passing, but you can sure read the type better. Go now, Go now I tell you, and buy one for your own church white board. It's worth the cost of shipping, I kid you not. The sooner you set things straight the sooner you can make your next mistake.
We are also the ones who find ourselves writing on the white board. The hallway outside my office holds up an information board.The white board says who is sick or dying or giving birth. These bits of info need to be clear and straight. As a Church Chick who does not own such a skill as seeing straight, my messages on the white board tend to travel much as a path up and around a steep mountain looks. ... my writing trails with bumps and sudden jerks about as much as a teen driver does as she drives the family car. You can see my dilemma.
The congregation, or anyone for that matter who enters the main hallway, passes by that sign to stay in the "know" and if the message isn't clear, there can be problems.
" Shirley Gufstark is the proud parent of... ? My God, it's a miracle!! The woman is 89 years old!!"
"Richard Blane has just been moved to Rex Rehab? The child's 2 days old! what rehab could he be having?"
You can see the Inquirer News potential ... It is an ongoing struggle for me and I'm happy to report, apparently for others in this biz as well. I am here to tell you that white boards are now equipped to help the slight of sighted. I purchased a new one this week that has faint lines and dots on it. You can't see them in passing, but you can sure read the type better. Go now, Go now I tell you, and buy one for your own church white board. It's worth the cost of shipping, I kid you not. The sooner you set things straight the sooner you can make your next mistake.
No Blood No Bandaid
Multi-tasking in this job includes converting my office into Red Cross Headquarters during Vacation Bible School week. During that week, my space doubles as "Respite Care for VBS workers" and I keep a solid supply of bubblegum and mixed nuts with MnM's on the desk with the top loosened. The workers enjoy the opportunity to pop in for a handful of calories, and I enjoy the bits and pieces of insight into their day and how things are going. I love bible school. Makes me think of my old preschool days except its even better because I don't have to be the one shooting adrenelin all week. ahhh.
The Church Lady's Red Cross Headquarters has an important policy. My policy is simple. The same as I used with my children when they were growing up, No Blood, No Bandaid. It took me a while to come up with this motto, but when I did, I figure it saved me a bundle in bandaid expenses.
I came into my office upon a sweet child-friend of mine who was washing his hands in my bowl of bubblegum. It reminded me ofMadge's bowl of Palmolive soapy water from an old commercial years ago when TV was new to color.
" What's up, Ben?"
"I stubbed my toe." He winced, on cue.
" You stubbed your own toe?"
He hesitated at this comment, probably wondering if indeed he did this to himself, or if maybe, just maybe some invisible gremlin made the accident happen. "Yes, right now."
" Oh. Wow. How come you're not crying?"
" Oh, I was, but my mom said I could come up here and find something to make it feel better."
" So, does the bubblegum help? Really?"
" Yeah, it does. Two pieces are a little better than one." He began to put a second piece in his mouth, then rethought the feat. He looked down at the injured area as if it was cordoned off with yellow tape. " I want a bandaid"
" Oh, rats." I pointed to the white board that hangs on my office door, usually the joy board, this week it held more important information such as "REspite care for VBS workers this way" and the No blood phrase.
" Is there blood?"
He looked down at his sandaled feet, dripping a little sugar-gum juice onto the carpet. "No"
"Oh" I joined him in a good long look. " Are you sure? want to see if we can try to get some out of that toe?"
He bent down as if he had considered my suggestion, but realized pretty quick that touching it made it hurt more. "No, my mom gives me a bandaid at home when there's no blood."
" Yeah, but look buddy. I'm stuck. The sign says that the rule here is , well, you know. ....."
He looked a little disheartened and let down.
"Hey, How about a toe sticker? That might help."
"A toe sticker?"
"Sure. that's sure to help, let's try." I reached into the treasure box I keep in my office and pulled out a page of miniature car stickers. He picked out a convertible, of course.
" Are you sure that's the toe sticker you need?"
" Yeah."
We stuck it on his big toe and off he went.
Church Ladies need to keep their tricks of the trade handy, you never know when a Pastor may need a toe sticker to ease discomfort from pulling a stuck foot from mouth. Well, I don't know about Pastor-need, I've already gone through 3 sheets myself. ....shhh.
"
The Church Lady's Red Cross Headquarters has an important policy. My policy is simple. The same as I used with my children when they were growing up, No Blood, No Bandaid. It took me a while to come up with this motto, but when I did, I figure it saved me a bundle in bandaid expenses.
I came into my office upon a sweet child-friend of mine who was washing his hands in my bowl of bubblegum. It reminded me ofMadge's bowl of Palmolive soapy water from an old commercial years ago when TV was new to color.
" What's up, Ben?"
"I stubbed my toe." He winced, on cue.
" You stubbed your own toe?"
He hesitated at this comment, probably wondering if indeed he did this to himself, or if maybe, just maybe some invisible gremlin made the accident happen. "Yes, right now."
" Oh. Wow. How come you're not crying?"
" Oh, I was, but my mom said I could come up here and find something to make it feel better."
" So, does the bubblegum help? Really?"
" Yeah, it does. Two pieces are a little better than one." He began to put a second piece in his mouth, then rethought the feat. He looked down at the injured area as if it was cordoned off with yellow tape. " I want a bandaid"
" Oh, rats." I pointed to the white board that hangs on my office door, usually the joy board, this week it held more important information such as "REspite care for VBS workers this way" and the No blood phrase.
" Is there blood?"
He looked down at his sandaled feet, dripping a little sugar-gum juice onto the carpet. "No"
"Oh" I joined him in a good long look. " Are you sure? want to see if we can try to get some out of that toe?"
He bent down as if he had considered my suggestion, but realized pretty quick that touching it made it hurt more. "No, my mom gives me a bandaid at home when there's no blood."
" Yeah, but look buddy. I'm stuck. The sign says that the rule here is , well, you know. ....."
He looked a little disheartened and let down.
"Hey, How about a toe sticker? That might help."
"A toe sticker?"
"Sure. that's sure to help, let's try." I reached into the treasure box I keep in my office and pulled out a page of miniature car stickers. He picked out a convertible, of course.
" Are you sure that's the toe sticker you need?"
" Yeah."
We stuck it on his big toe and off he went.
Church Ladies need to keep their tricks of the trade handy, you never know when a Pastor may need a toe sticker to ease discomfort from pulling a stuck foot from mouth. Well, I don't know about Pastor-need, I've already gone through 3 sheets myself. ....shhh.
"
Monday, June 20, 2005
Copy machine crisis
Church ladies battle endless challenges with misguided office equipment.
Sure,Pastors have to work with human dilemmas, and I’m not in any way saying I don’t respect that, actually I’m quite in awe of my own Pastors who never seem to stop going to see someone, or looking out for him, calling her, checking on them. It’s an ongoing tug-0-war, balancing home with all the needs of the church members who need them. But if they weren’t so darn good at what they do, if they weren’t so confounded gifted, they wouldn’t have to worry with so much overtime.
In this day and age, I’m actually a little surprised that the concept of the cold-hearted church hasn’t cropped up. Build it, tall and big and creaky and cold, damp and aged to begin with. Fill it with a quirky staff, and that should keep the hoards away. Oh.
Ahem
Actually, that sounds a lot like my church, and people bicker their way in those doors, wait in the hall to see their Pastor … oh, well. Nevermind.
Getting back to the point- people can be full of whines and irritating habits, what have you- but sometimes office machinery takes the cake.
There’s a little known organization known as the POEIA (Pesky Office- equipment Intelligence Agency)…( The acronymn has a peculiar flavor-It sounds like a big big kiss you mouth to someone at the station when their train hits the track and they are rolling out of your life) It’s a cry-kiss-and-smile word.
Anyway, for centuries the poeia members have banded together to rid offices of CL’s. Yes, I’m talking conspiracy. You get the one sided copy figured out and then you discover the two-sided troubles. You finally master the two and here comes a booklet. I’m telling you there’s no end. Just no end.
Don’t ever let your guard down. This is where the crack comes in. You let your guard down, feel a little cocky at the copier, and you can be sure that inside that machine, your papers are being rearranged, turned upside down or worse. I heard of one case where the CL took long slow breaths while putting together a 4 page booklet. She finally got the pages to come out right and let out a yap yap. She thought, thought that no one could hear her excitement.
A few minutes later, when the head Pastor was reviewing the important booklet with his Associate Pastor, he called her into his office. Actually her psychotic phone called her in. She heard the announcement and went right over. He said, “ The service is in reverse.” She looked at the booklet, and sure enough the cover had been put on the back instead of the front. Horrified, she rushed down to the copy machine to make the adjustment.
“I’m sure I checked that , I’m just sure.” She thought to herself.
She reached for another sheet of depression green and alas…. Someone had eaten the whole thing. The paper was gone, the cubby vacant.
Criminy! I only need one!
She searched through a stack of discarded ,homeless sheets and found a lone green ranger huddled and crumpled in the corner. She pulled it out, went into the Parlor where the linens were kept, got the iron out and ironed the rejected sheet, then added it to the booklet and stapled it together.
Another crisis averted.
Church Chick
Sure,Pastors have to work with human dilemmas, and I’m not in any way saying I don’t respect that, actually I’m quite in awe of my own Pastors who never seem to stop going to see someone, or looking out for him, calling her, checking on them. It’s an ongoing tug-0-war, balancing home with all the needs of the church members who need them. But if they weren’t so darn good at what they do, if they weren’t so confounded gifted, they wouldn’t have to worry with so much overtime.
In this day and age, I’m actually a little surprised that the concept of the cold-hearted church hasn’t cropped up. Build it, tall and big and creaky and cold, damp and aged to begin with. Fill it with a quirky staff, and that should keep the hoards away. Oh.
Ahem
Actually, that sounds a lot like my church, and people bicker their way in those doors, wait in the hall to see their Pastor … oh, well. Nevermind.
Getting back to the point- people can be full of whines and irritating habits, what have you- but sometimes office machinery takes the cake.
There’s a little known organization known as the POEIA (Pesky Office- equipment Intelligence Agency)…( The acronymn has a peculiar flavor-It sounds like a big big kiss you mouth to someone at the station when their train hits the track and they are rolling out of your life) It’s a cry-kiss-and-smile word.
Anyway, for centuries the poeia members have banded together to rid offices of CL’s. Yes, I’m talking conspiracy. You get the one sided copy figured out and then you discover the two-sided troubles. You finally master the two and here comes a booklet. I’m telling you there’s no end. Just no end.
Don’t ever let your guard down. This is where the crack comes in. You let your guard down, feel a little cocky at the copier, and you can be sure that inside that machine, your papers are being rearranged, turned upside down or worse. I heard of one case where the CL took long slow breaths while putting together a 4 page booklet. She finally got the pages to come out right and let out a yap yap. She thought, thought that no one could hear her excitement.
A few minutes later, when the head Pastor was reviewing the important booklet with his Associate Pastor, he called her into his office. Actually her psychotic phone called her in. She heard the announcement and went right over. He said, “ The service is in reverse.” She looked at the booklet, and sure enough the cover had been put on the back instead of the front. Horrified, she rushed down to the copy machine to make the adjustment.
“I’m sure I checked that , I’m just sure.” She thought to herself.
She reached for another sheet of depression green and alas…. Someone had eaten the whole thing. The paper was gone, the cubby vacant.
Criminy! I only need one!
She searched through a stack of discarded ,homeless sheets and found a lone green ranger huddled and crumpled in the corner. She pulled it out, went into the Parlor where the linens were kept, got the iron out and ironed the rejected sheet, then added it to the booklet and stapled it together.
Another crisis averted.
Church Chick
Don't get too far ahead
Let’s face it, people- the staff that surround us depend on us for those million and one scrips and scraps of information. Where is this? When is that? Who do you think you are? All of it and more … Second guessing can be a handy tool at times, but be forewarned- don’t go overboard.
Being too far ahead of the game can backfire if you aren’t careful. Even the best intentions can become self-angst if misguided or driven by late afternoon panic. You never know when a class that you have copied weekly lesson handouts for for several weeks, may jump the schedule or skip around. Don’t let it go to your head if you come in early or stay late copying a semester full of weekly classroom sheets, or you may find yourself standing before the paper guillotine axing them, trimming them, or making paper doll decorations for your office with them.
On the other hand, one can never have enough note paper, now, can one?
Church Chick
Being too far ahead of the game can backfire if you aren’t careful. Even the best intentions can become self-angst if misguided or driven by late afternoon panic. You never know when a class that you have copied weekly lesson handouts for for several weeks, may jump the schedule or skip around. Don’t let it go to your head if you come in early or stay late copying a semester full of weekly classroom sheets, or you may find yourself standing before the paper guillotine axing them, trimming them, or making paper doll decorations for your office with them.
On the other hand, one can never have enough note paper, now, can one?
Church Chick
Your next appointment is here
The world is a-changing. Communication has gone from yelling in the fields, “Dinner!” to text messaging,. In the professional community, office settings provide boxes that cradle receivers and speakers and lots of buttons. Usually, one can gently push a particular button in order to reach a particular person to discuss important business matters. Church Secretaries spend a lot of time each day pushing those buttons. Typically, a ringing sound will let you know you are trying to “yell in the field” to the other party. … Once you've responded to the bell, you may be asked to send the screamer to another extention-But take caution here, ladies and gents… be forewarned….. In the event you push one of those benign buttons, say, to let your new boss know his next appointment is here, if your button pushing is not met with any particular response, DO NOT , I repeat… DO NOT :
Think the machine is faulty and try it again. Do not become more intentional in your button pushing.
Do not continue to push and hang up. push and hang up. ...And then again, each time hanging up a little more firmly
Do not try manually pushing the number extension instead of the intercom button
Do not hold the receiver close enough to lick and provide commentary as you are struggling to do the best job ever by telling your new boss that his next damn appointment is now here.
If , however, you do engage in this vocal and slightly physical exertion, you may as well know that momentarily, it is entirely possible that your boss will be standing over your desk, red faced and gripping the edge of your veneered desktop. He may speak through clenched teeth, saying something like, “ I can hear you. My intercom is on”.
If this occurs, my advice is to gently push away from the desk, casually look down and around the floor until you find the two bulging eyeballs that bungy jumped to the rug. Blow away any dust bunnies or stray paperclips they might have picked up and very very slowly… hold them out to your boss as a peace offering.
Although as a general policy, Church Secretary offices carry an open door policy, in this case it is perfectly okay and strongly advised to close your door until most of the embarrassment fuchsia wanes, until your freckles can be seen through the reddened skin.
Melanie
Think the machine is faulty and try it again. Do not become more intentional in your button pushing.
Do not continue to push and hang up. push and hang up. ...And then again, each time hanging up a little more firmly
Do not try manually pushing the number extension instead of the intercom button
Do not hold the receiver close enough to lick and provide commentary as you are struggling to do the best job ever by telling your new boss that his next damn appointment is now here.
If , however, you do engage in this vocal and slightly physical exertion, you may as well know that momentarily, it is entirely possible that your boss will be standing over your desk, red faced and gripping the edge of your veneered desktop. He may speak through clenched teeth, saying something like, “ I can hear you. My intercom is on”.
If this occurs, my advice is to gently push away from the desk, casually look down and around the floor until you find the two bulging eyeballs that bungy jumped to the rug. Blow away any dust bunnies or stray paperclips they might have picked up and very very slowly… hold them out to your boss as a peace offering.
Although as a general policy, Church Secretary offices carry an open door policy, in this case it is perfectly okay and strongly advised to close your door until most of the embarrassment fuchsia wanes, until your freckles can be seen through the reddened skin.
Melanie
High security copy machine codes
Sometimes she felt like Anne Southerland, or the nameless stenographer on Perry Mason. How long would it be before they realized she was not a real secretary, admin assistant, copy girl. When would they figure out that she was Just. Playing. Office……
Adventure for the day- The copy machine has a security code. Why, you may wonder. Perhaps it is because without it, the possibilities of terrorists printing terrorist pages becomes more possible. Perhaps there is the threat that the secret hidden inside the machine will be exposed without the security code. Of course, I know there is a leprechaun who lives inside that thing, I learned that early on. I think he's 6th cousin twice re-glued to the shoemaker elves. I heard that modern day changes drove them out of leather and into paper,but that's just rumor. The point is that the copy machine has a very very complicated secret code that is only given out to new employees under the full moon. The number is.... 4444When you put in too many 4’s for the copy code, the machine will print out 440 of whatever you wanted to copy- even if you only wanted one. The “pause”button is useless as it ignores those who make such a frivolous error. “Stop” doesn’t work ;and you can push the reset button until the plastic cracks, but the machine, when pushed to the too many 4’s level will print /vent until all 440 virgin white 20 pound sheets are marked.
Helpful hint for the day- Sometimes, in the course of our busy office days, we come across exiled piles of mistaken paper gangs. The misfit pages suffer dreadfully from low self-esteem, having been tossed aside because of their mismarkings……Rather than discard the already insulted sheets, cut them into useable note-size paper. You’re happy to have something to write on, and the paper is glad to be reborn as useful memos.
Needless to say, I have an abundance of homemade note paper. Why, I'm sure I have at least 440 pages cut into note taking pages. At least.
Melanie
Adventure for the day- The copy machine has a security code. Why, you may wonder. Perhaps it is because without it, the possibilities of terrorists printing terrorist pages becomes more possible. Perhaps there is the threat that the secret hidden inside the machine will be exposed without the security code. Of course, I know there is a leprechaun who lives inside that thing, I learned that early on. I think he's 6th cousin twice re-glued to the shoemaker elves. I heard that modern day changes drove them out of leather and into paper,but that's just rumor. The point is that the copy machine has a very very complicated secret code that is only given out to new employees under the full moon. The number is.... 4444When you put in too many 4’s for the copy code, the machine will print out 440 of whatever you wanted to copy- even if you only wanted one. The “pause”button is useless as it ignores those who make such a frivolous error. “Stop” doesn’t work ;and you can push the reset button until the plastic cracks, but the machine, when pushed to the too many 4’s level will print /vent until all 440 virgin white 20 pound sheets are marked.
Helpful hint for the day- Sometimes, in the course of our busy office days, we come across exiled piles of mistaken paper gangs. The misfit pages suffer dreadfully from low self-esteem, having been tossed aside because of their mismarkings……Rather than discard the already insulted sheets, cut them into useable note-size paper. You’re happy to have something to write on, and the paper is glad to be reborn as useful memos.
Needless to say, I have an abundance of homemade note paper. Why, I'm sure I have at least 440 pages cut into note taking pages. At least.
Melanie
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Postal Part 2
Remember Harper Valley PTA? Well, THAT is the look in the eye of Doris and the eyes of Frank when I enter their turf these days.
Hey- I’m trying. Really I am. I go on my way to work, and clean it out, and I go at the end of the day sometimes, too. I’ve tried everything I know to make amends, but I’m beginning to see that the Frank and Doris duo carry a grudge with a vengeance.
I visited my minibox and heard some mystery shuffling behind the gremlin box door. When I turned the key, something turned it back. It took me a good 5 minutes to just open the darn thing. Then, when I pulled out the wad of junk mags, something pulled back. That’s when I heard the snickering. There’s nothing more insulting when you are trying to clean out your bonsai post office box, than hearing snickering in the shadows.
The next day, I didn’t have resistance to my unloading attempts, but the contents seemed endless. I no sooner had pulled out a chunk of mail and dropped it in my basket, than another one appeared. And wouldn’t you know that when I asked Frank for a bigger basket to carry it to work in, he just pouted out his bottom lip and said, “How sad for you”. I didn’t realize until I finally made my overloaded way to work, that most of the mail was not even ours. Thanks, Frank, you’re a real gem…..
Then when I went by one night, the security code had been changed on the after hours door so I couldn’t get in, but when I mentioned this to Mr. Frank N. Steiner, the next morning, he crossed his arms and said, “No spricken de dortch”. Yeah. Right.
One day, I got to the Post Office RIGHT at 4:57; I was surprised to find the the door already locked. Peering in the shaded glass window, I saw Doris climbing down a ladder that stood underneath the wall clock. Their clock said 5:01. Frank just shrugged at me. Hmph.
This morning was the worst, though. I came in early, and stopped by for my daily drudge- mail pickup attempt, and found by a serendipitous moment- my security code worked and the door opened. I cautiously walked in and tiptoed to my baby box. I bent down, opened it, and then was overcome with a wave of nervous wriggles. I had the distinct sense of being watched.
Slowly, I raised my eyes, shifted slightly left, and found myself looking straight up into the oversized pupils of a life size mail person named C. Battle. She stood over me, in a most cheerfully chilling manner. My mail flew out of my hands and I fell right down on my bottom. That’s when I saw the cardboard cut out support stand at her feet. Now who in their right mind would first, name a cheerful post person Battle? And what purpose does it serve to leave the Post Office in the overnight care of a cardboard cutout anyway? What were they thinking? Oh, woah is me. All I want to do is pick up my mail, oh woah.
Church Chick
Hey- I’m trying. Really I am. I go on my way to work, and clean it out, and I go at the end of the day sometimes, too. I’ve tried everything I know to make amends, but I’m beginning to see that the Frank and Doris duo carry a grudge with a vengeance.
I visited my minibox and heard some mystery shuffling behind the gremlin box door. When I turned the key, something turned it back. It took me a good 5 minutes to just open the darn thing. Then, when I pulled out the wad of junk mags, something pulled back. That’s when I heard the snickering. There’s nothing more insulting when you are trying to clean out your bonsai post office box, than hearing snickering in the shadows.
The next day, I didn’t have resistance to my unloading attempts, but the contents seemed endless. I no sooner had pulled out a chunk of mail and dropped it in my basket, than another one appeared. And wouldn’t you know that when I asked Frank for a bigger basket to carry it to work in, he just pouted out his bottom lip and said, “How sad for you”. I didn’t realize until I finally made my overloaded way to work, that most of the mail was not even ours. Thanks, Frank, you’re a real gem…..
Then when I went by one night, the security code had been changed on the after hours door so I couldn’t get in, but when I mentioned this to Mr. Frank N. Steiner, the next morning, he crossed his arms and said, “No spricken de dortch”. Yeah. Right.
One day, I got to the Post Office RIGHT at 4:57; I was surprised to find the the door already locked. Peering in the shaded glass window, I saw Doris climbing down a ladder that stood underneath the wall clock. Their clock said 5:01. Frank just shrugged at me. Hmph.
This morning was the worst, though. I came in early, and stopped by for my daily drudge- mail pickup attempt, and found by a serendipitous moment- my security code worked and the door opened. I cautiously walked in and tiptoed to my baby box. I bent down, opened it, and then was overcome with a wave of nervous wriggles. I had the distinct sense of being watched.
Slowly, I raised my eyes, shifted slightly left, and found myself looking straight up into the oversized pupils of a life size mail person named C. Battle. She stood over me, in a most cheerfully chilling manner. My mail flew out of my hands and I fell right down on my bottom. That’s when I saw the cardboard cut out support stand at her feet. Now who in their right mind would first, name a cheerful post person Battle? And what purpose does it serve to leave the Post Office in the overnight care of a cardboard cutout anyway? What were they thinking? Oh, woah is me. All I want to do is pick up my mail, oh woah.
Church Chick
Going Postal
Pissing off Postal.
What do you do when you piss off the postal service? Well, it’s quite simple.
After spending 6 months learning and growing into the role of a top-o-the-line Church Lady, I can say with great confidence- You DON’T.DO NOT. Danger Will Robinson Danger!! Run Forrest, Run-get the message?
I’ve written earlier about vibrant interactions with Doris, the psycho desk dame at the PO. Well, let me just reinforce the importance of keeping your postal attendants pleased.
I think the doc never got Doris’s meds quite right. She’s out a lot, and when she’s here, she’s not really here, if you know what I mean. Doris holds a very important position at our local branch, she holds the desk up with a firm double grip; and seeing as she’s only got (at last report) 21 months left to go before retirement, she’s on a track. And I’m not talking trains. She has everyone in the small 4X4 office walking on tip toes, stamping and licking their “P’s” and “Q’s” so to speak. Bottom line is NO one rocks Doris’ boat, and when her gauge begins to slide from cold to warm to hot, they pull her out and plug in Frank.
I’ve come to know Frank quite well in the last few weeks, an opportunity you really need to try to avoid if at all possible.
Frank used to be a bouncer at an all night diner/bowling alley for wayward truckers. He looks benign, but is anything but. His voice is soft, Vincent Price soft and he wears a smile that will eat you alive. Beware of Frank. Don’t know him. They only put him out front when Doris is about to blow. …..and as I said a few lines back, I’ve gotten to know Frank pretty well lately. I’d call him Frankie, ‘cept I’m afraid of what he might do if he heard me. I’m sort of scared to think it.
----------------------------------II-----------------------------------------------------
We have a lovely mail person who stops by every day to visit our lady’s room, and re do her hair. Sometimes she brushes her teeth, makes a few copies; on occasion she spends a little extra time trimming her cuticles. Every now and then she brings us a few parcels of mail; mostly, she uses us as a rest stop- and that’s fine. I like her. She’s pleasant, and easy. Good qualities. I’ve not ever really seen her deliver any mail, but she looks pretty spiffy driving that mail truck, I can tell you.
I stop by the post office to collect our mail from our PO box every other day. Being a large church, one would think we’d have a big box, but ah!! Not so!! We have a lovely bonsai box. It will graciously hold a few post cards and maybe half a magazine. I like visiting the box because it makes me feel like Petra Pan. I have the key. The key to the box.- The treasure box.- Well, it might be. So far, I’ve only come across the items listed above, but one day, just like the lottery, I’ll open that thing to find gold and treasures. Yes, one day, I’ll find the announcement that Doris is done. She’s on retirement row. But, ah.. I digress…
When the box gets too full, the mail crew pulls everything out, and replaces the overage with a simple slip of paper, a pink slip if you will and it has but one word on it. Tray
That means that your mail has been ripped from it’s warm and fuzzy bonsai box home, and thrown carelessly into a cold and heartless white plastic tray. Oh, the grief of it all.
The first time I unlocked our PO box door to find that slip of news, I was baffled.
“What does this mean?” I asked Doris.
She pulled the paper from my hands so fast it left me with paper cuts that ran across my fingers.
“Ouch!” into the mouth the digits flew. Paper cuts sting like the dickens. Holding my sliced fingers in my mouth, I glanced up at Doris.
She was staring at the pink sheet. She slipped into a fugue state, stood motionless. Her eyebrows were the first thing to come back to life. They started moving up towards her forehead. First one, then the other. The duo brows peaked and held. She kept staring at my slip. It began rattling in her hands, and then, without notice, one of her eyeballs plopped right out of her head!! It hit the formica desktop with a thud, then rolled around, in search of a willing edge, and plop. There it went onto the floor and into the nearest corner.
Immediately,from out of nowhere, came Frank.
“Come, Doris, it’s LUNCHTIME!!” ( Apparently Doris enjoys that part of her day)
The frozen woman stood still. Her mountain top eyebrows relaxed a little. Frank gently guided her away from the desk and led her into the back.
They paused at the curtain that separated the desk from the “back”. He tugged on the pink slip that was now sticking to her skin via her own sweat.
His voice, gentle and kind slipped out. “ Let it go, Doris, that’s a girl. Just let. It. Go.” Frank retrieved enough of the slip to realize what it said, and helped her find her way into the “back”. Then he straightened up and took her place at the desk.
“You need to clean out your box more often.”
“Doris doesn’t like overage mail.”
I recalled that Doris also didn’t like misdated mail, either, and that she had mastered the art of murdering mail that didn’t make it into the home office in a timely fashion. I was overcome with sympathetic feelings for my poor parcels, having now been slapped so viciously with an insulting label. Overage. I’d like to see someone call Doris Overage sometime. How insensitive.
“I’ll try to do better. Frank, is it?” I looked at his nametag.
“My name is Mr. Frankelcosielniasky. I’m from the old country, they just couldn’t fit it all on this prissy pat tag. And you need to clear out your box more often. Kapeesh?”
“ Yessir, Frank, uh. Mr. Frank. I kapeesh. I mean I get it. Thank you, um. Could I have the tray, now?”
“You’ll be lucky if Doris hasn’t shredded the whole lot of it, lady.” He huffed off to the “back”, the curtains opened for him and slammed shut behind him, as slammed as fabric can.
He returned, gave me my tray and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The next day was Saturday, but I was so shell-shocked from my desk-time chat with Frank and Doris, that I went anyway, and cleaned out the box. No surprises.
Monday morning, I went by on my way to work. The week proved to be an easy one. The big bosses were gone, my regular work was caught up, and I looked forward to doing some simple Church Chick filing and copying. I opened my box, on that fateful early early Monday morning and stepped back aghast. A lone piece of pink paper caught my eye. I’d been “tray”ed again.
I gently backed out of the PO and got into my car. I hit the road running and went straight to work. I was so nervous, that even my typewriting quivered, my font fuzzed on the page. How could I get my mail and come out alive?
One of our interns came in that day, and stopped in the office to say hi. She was a cute, really rather breathtaking beauty. She helped out almost daily, and was always willing to do something new and different.
“I need your help”
“Sure, what is it? “Can you go to the PO and give the desk person this paper? Don’t speak, just flash those baby blues and smile for all you’re worth. Take your cell phone, and call me if you need to. Can you do it? You’ll be saving my life if you do.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back”
And so she was. She returned with a “tray” full of this and that mail. No prob. No complaints, no fears voiced. No threatening sense. None. Wow.
I’ve learned that the only way to make good on mistakes is to face up to them. I didn’t really feel I had made the mistake this time, but taking credit for mistakes is something I do exceptionally well, so I just jumped right in and claimed it anyway. I should have met the desk clerk face to face and taken my punishment like a man, but instead, I wimped out and relied on the beauty of another. A hard lesson learned, let me tell you.
The next day, there was a stack of postcards sitting in wait for me, with a note that said, “needs more postage”. Now, I’ve sent postcards plenty of times, with no problem, so I decided it was a subliminal message to me. A message in code. “Don’t send the messenger, wimps pay out.” I think it pissed off Frank that I sent in reinforcements. Oh, great. Just great.
Today, I went in early, and when I opened my bonsai, I heard some shuffling behind the open end of the box, saw a shuffle, a flash of blue and white. I cleaned out the box, and stood to face Frank. Gulp.
“ Good morning, Frank.Sir”
He stood like Mr. Clean. Arms crossed across his expanded chest. He just nodded.
I stood at the trash can and pulled out the junk mail, and dropped a piece of it into the trash can. “You’d better not be putting anything in that trash, as hard as it was to get it in your box. You’d better not be throwing that stuff away. You’d better not.”
He stood up straighter and looked over the desk, as if he could see inside the trash can, although it stood a good 15 feet away and behind a table.
I reached inside the trash and pulled out my junk ad. I opened my mouth to speak-
“Don’t be.” I saw Doris peeking out from behind the trembling curtains.
On the desk sat a miniature sign. It read, “Doris 300 down, and 20 months, 25 days to go.”……. Where’s the pony express when you really need it?.
What do you do when you piss off the postal service? Well, it’s quite simple.
After spending 6 months learning and growing into the role of a top-o-the-line Church Lady, I can say with great confidence- You DON’T.DO NOT. Danger Will Robinson Danger!! Run Forrest, Run-get the message?
I’ve written earlier about vibrant interactions with Doris, the psycho desk dame at the PO. Well, let me just reinforce the importance of keeping your postal attendants pleased.
I think the doc never got Doris’s meds quite right. She’s out a lot, and when she’s here, she’s not really here, if you know what I mean. Doris holds a very important position at our local branch, she holds the desk up with a firm double grip; and seeing as she’s only got (at last report) 21 months left to go before retirement, she’s on a track. And I’m not talking trains. She has everyone in the small 4X4 office walking on tip toes, stamping and licking their “P’s” and “Q’s” so to speak. Bottom line is NO one rocks Doris’ boat, and when her gauge begins to slide from cold to warm to hot, they pull her out and plug in Frank.
I’ve come to know Frank quite well in the last few weeks, an opportunity you really need to try to avoid if at all possible.
Frank used to be a bouncer at an all night diner/bowling alley for wayward truckers. He looks benign, but is anything but. His voice is soft, Vincent Price soft and he wears a smile that will eat you alive. Beware of Frank. Don’t know him. They only put him out front when Doris is about to blow. …..and as I said a few lines back, I’ve gotten to know Frank pretty well lately. I’d call him Frankie, ‘cept I’m afraid of what he might do if he heard me. I’m sort of scared to think it.
----------------------------------II-----------------------------------------------------
We have a lovely mail person who stops by every day to visit our lady’s room, and re do her hair. Sometimes she brushes her teeth, makes a few copies; on occasion she spends a little extra time trimming her cuticles. Every now and then she brings us a few parcels of mail; mostly, she uses us as a rest stop- and that’s fine. I like her. She’s pleasant, and easy. Good qualities. I’ve not ever really seen her deliver any mail, but she looks pretty spiffy driving that mail truck, I can tell you.
I stop by the post office to collect our mail from our PO box every other day. Being a large church, one would think we’d have a big box, but ah!! Not so!! We have a lovely bonsai box. It will graciously hold a few post cards and maybe half a magazine. I like visiting the box because it makes me feel like Petra Pan. I have the key. The key to the box.- The treasure box.- Well, it might be. So far, I’ve only come across the items listed above, but one day, just like the lottery, I’ll open that thing to find gold and treasures. Yes, one day, I’ll find the announcement that Doris is done. She’s on retirement row. But, ah.. I digress…
When the box gets too full, the mail crew pulls everything out, and replaces the overage with a simple slip of paper, a pink slip if you will and it has but one word on it. Tray
That means that your mail has been ripped from it’s warm and fuzzy bonsai box home, and thrown carelessly into a cold and heartless white plastic tray. Oh, the grief of it all.
The first time I unlocked our PO box door to find that slip of news, I was baffled.
“What does this mean?” I asked Doris.
She pulled the paper from my hands so fast it left me with paper cuts that ran across my fingers.
“Ouch!” into the mouth the digits flew. Paper cuts sting like the dickens. Holding my sliced fingers in my mouth, I glanced up at Doris.
She was staring at the pink sheet. She slipped into a fugue state, stood motionless. Her eyebrows were the first thing to come back to life. They started moving up towards her forehead. First one, then the other. The duo brows peaked and held. She kept staring at my slip. It began rattling in her hands, and then, without notice, one of her eyeballs plopped right out of her head!! It hit the formica desktop with a thud, then rolled around, in search of a willing edge, and plop. There it went onto the floor and into the nearest corner.
Immediately,from out of nowhere, came Frank.
“Come, Doris, it’s LUNCHTIME!!” ( Apparently Doris enjoys that part of her day)
The frozen woman stood still. Her mountain top eyebrows relaxed a little. Frank gently guided her away from the desk and led her into the back.
They paused at the curtain that separated the desk from the “back”. He tugged on the pink slip that was now sticking to her skin via her own sweat.
His voice, gentle and kind slipped out. “ Let it go, Doris, that’s a girl. Just let. It. Go.” Frank retrieved enough of the slip to realize what it said, and helped her find her way into the “back”. Then he straightened up and took her place at the desk.
“You need to clean out your box more often.”
“Doris doesn’t like overage mail.”
I recalled that Doris also didn’t like misdated mail, either, and that she had mastered the art of murdering mail that didn’t make it into the home office in a timely fashion. I was overcome with sympathetic feelings for my poor parcels, having now been slapped so viciously with an insulting label. Overage. I’d like to see someone call Doris Overage sometime. How insensitive.
“I’ll try to do better. Frank, is it?” I looked at his nametag.
“My name is Mr. Frankelcosielniasky. I’m from the old country, they just couldn’t fit it all on this prissy pat tag. And you need to clear out your box more often. Kapeesh?”
“ Yessir, Frank, uh. Mr. Frank. I kapeesh. I mean I get it. Thank you, um. Could I have the tray, now?”
“You’ll be lucky if Doris hasn’t shredded the whole lot of it, lady.” He huffed off to the “back”, the curtains opened for him and slammed shut behind him, as slammed as fabric can.
He returned, gave me my tray and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The next day was Saturday, but I was so shell-shocked from my desk-time chat with Frank and Doris, that I went anyway, and cleaned out the box. No surprises.
Monday morning, I went by on my way to work. The week proved to be an easy one. The big bosses were gone, my regular work was caught up, and I looked forward to doing some simple Church Chick filing and copying. I opened my box, on that fateful early early Monday morning and stepped back aghast. A lone piece of pink paper caught my eye. I’d been “tray”ed again.
I gently backed out of the PO and got into my car. I hit the road running and went straight to work. I was so nervous, that even my typewriting quivered, my font fuzzed on the page. How could I get my mail and come out alive?
One of our interns came in that day, and stopped in the office to say hi. She was a cute, really rather breathtaking beauty. She helped out almost daily, and was always willing to do something new and different.
“I need your help”
“Sure, what is it? “Can you go to the PO and give the desk person this paper? Don’t speak, just flash those baby blues and smile for all you’re worth. Take your cell phone, and call me if you need to. Can you do it? You’ll be saving my life if you do.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back”
And so she was. She returned with a “tray” full of this and that mail. No prob. No complaints, no fears voiced. No threatening sense. None. Wow.
I’ve learned that the only way to make good on mistakes is to face up to them. I didn’t really feel I had made the mistake this time, but taking credit for mistakes is something I do exceptionally well, so I just jumped right in and claimed it anyway. I should have met the desk clerk face to face and taken my punishment like a man, but instead, I wimped out and relied on the beauty of another. A hard lesson learned, let me tell you.
The next day, there was a stack of postcards sitting in wait for me, with a note that said, “needs more postage”. Now, I’ve sent postcards plenty of times, with no problem, so I decided it was a subliminal message to me. A message in code. “Don’t send the messenger, wimps pay out.” I think it pissed off Frank that I sent in reinforcements. Oh, great. Just great.
Today, I went in early, and when I opened my bonsai, I heard some shuffling behind the open end of the box, saw a shuffle, a flash of blue and white. I cleaned out the box, and stood to face Frank. Gulp.
“ Good morning, Frank.Sir”
He stood like Mr. Clean. Arms crossed across his expanded chest. He just nodded.
I stood at the trash can and pulled out the junk mail, and dropped a piece of it into the trash can. “You’d better not be putting anything in that trash, as hard as it was to get it in your box. You’d better not be throwing that stuff away. You’d better not.”
He stood up straighter and looked over the desk, as if he could see inside the trash can, although it stood a good 15 feet away and behind a table.
I reached inside the trash and pulled out my junk ad. I opened my mouth to speak-
“Don’t be.” I saw Doris peeking out from behind the trembling curtains.
On the desk sat a miniature sign. It read, “Doris 300 down, and 20 months, 25 days to go.”……. Where’s the pony express when you really need it?.
Funeral fetish? Just more funeral fodder
Sigh… Sigh again… The life of the church lady is morphous. Ever-changing, chameleon-like at times. Where does one get training for such an entity as the working life of a church lady, you might say.. … After researching University campuses around the nation, and then the world, it would appear that there is no such major as CL. BA, BS ( lots of that going around) PhD, but CL? Not to be found by this reporter. Maybe the chronicles should suffice as on-line training. Hmm, now there’s a thought.
Back to the topic at hand. Although after hearing about many of the fun and exciting adventures of living the church lady life, what would you say could possibly be more fun than organizing a funeral? What? Think hard. Lots of calls to be made, people to offer empathetic vibes to, meals to setup, bulletins to copy, ushers to arrange, paraments to place, …. What… Well, I’m here to tell you what. The only thing more fun than planning a funeral is unplanning one. Yessiree’ changing the day or time is more fun than playing telephone, but it has the same effect. Say, for instance, you speak to a committee member.
“But I thought it was Friday at 6?”
“Yes, I know. So did we, but the family has decided to move it to Wednesday at 4, because the burial suit won’t be ready from the cleaners til that morning and apparently, Fred was very specific in his will about what he wanted to wear. He insisted on wearing his Cubs jacket. The family felt that he had been sick for so long, it was the least they could do. They said he always felt better in that jacket.”
“oh. Okay. Well, I’ll tell my people then. Wednesday at 4. Won’t that interfere with the Creedance Choir rehearsal? They always practice in the sanctuary at that time.”
“ Well, we’ve convinced the family to incorporate the choir of 85 into the service. They’ll be practicing and also singing Fred’s favorite hymns.”
“ Did Fred have any favorite hymns? He hadn’t come to church in 23 years, and I thought ever since he lost his hearing, he had become interested in rap music.”
“ Funny you should say that, as a matter of fact, the choir will be doing a rap interpretation of their songs.”
“ Gosh. I can’t imagine How Great thou art in rap, or Just as I am. This should be interesting.”
“ Listen, Mrs. Albermarle, I’ve got to call the others on the list, so I’d better go.”
The day flew by, calls came and went, email updates flew across the internet highway. Then-
“ Is it true? I just heard that Fred was clawed to death by a bear cub who had escaped the Asheboro Zoo!! And his funeral has been postponed because they haven’t located all of his limbs yet. Is it true?”
Then-
“ I hate to bother you church lady, but CNN is reporting that there’s a rap band gone missing and they are all suspects in an abduction of a non-participating member of our church, they found some sheet music, a hearing aid and a torn up cubs jacket over on highway 48. The cameras flashed a picture of our front yard, the front yard of the parsonage on TV. Is it someone from our church?”
This Church lady has learned that the fewer voices in the pot the better.
Funerals are an animal all their own. They bring out the best and worst of people. Some people just need an outlet to sigh. They need a reason to release. I’ll be typing away at my desk and I’ll hear the footsteps in the hallway as someone approaches the information white board.
“Belva Sprat. I’ll be. Sighhhhhh.” Then off they’ll go.
“ Oh, look. Craig Asphalt. Didn’t he have that freak appendix accident?” sighhhhhh,.
“ MMM, mmm. MMM. Sighhhhhhhhhh.”
Sometimes, when it seems like tensions are high around the halls, I will sporadically add a pretend person to the white board in the hallway- just to offer passers- by an opportunity to let a little bit of their stress go. Haven’t had complaints yet. Actually, morale seems pretty high right now. And we’ve had 4 funerals in the last four weeks. I wonder if there’s a connection somewhere.
On another note, one would think that a funeral is not an occasion to be impatient or self-minded. And so it is with great dismay that I share this tidbit.. a funeral came up……
I called ushers to come in; on this particular funeral planning escapade, I had a very hard time finding people available . For a while I thought I may have to don a suit and just give it a go. I figured I could add ushering to my job description or resume.I have to admit that I don’t know how to tie a man’s tie, and actually, I felt lucky when I didn’t’ have to pitch hit usher. In the course of my phone calling I came upon a very irritated usher-potential.
“ No, I CANNOT usher that funeral. ……Really…I might say that if you could just give me a little more notice next time, I may be able to rearrange my schedule. I really need more notice than this.”
More notice? More notice? Okay. Let me just mention that to the deceased. How careless to die without any forewarning to those who may be involved in carrying his cedar shavings down the aisle.
Back to the topic at hand. Although after hearing about many of the fun and exciting adventures of living the church lady life, what would you say could possibly be more fun than organizing a funeral? What? Think hard. Lots of calls to be made, people to offer empathetic vibes to, meals to setup, bulletins to copy, ushers to arrange, paraments to place, …. What… Well, I’m here to tell you what. The only thing more fun than planning a funeral is unplanning one. Yessiree’ changing the day or time is more fun than playing telephone, but it has the same effect. Say, for instance, you speak to a committee member.
“But I thought it was Friday at 6?”
“Yes, I know. So did we, but the family has decided to move it to Wednesday at 4, because the burial suit won’t be ready from the cleaners til that morning and apparently, Fred was very specific in his will about what he wanted to wear. He insisted on wearing his Cubs jacket. The family felt that he had been sick for so long, it was the least they could do. They said he always felt better in that jacket.”
“oh. Okay. Well, I’ll tell my people then. Wednesday at 4. Won’t that interfere with the Creedance Choir rehearsal? They always practice in the sanctuary at that time.”
“ Well, we’ve convinced the family to incorporate the choir of 85 into the service. They’ll be practicing and also singing Fred’s favorite hymns.”
“ Did Fred have any favorite hymns? He hadn’t come to church in 23 years, and I thought ever since he lost his hearing, he had become interested in rap music.”
“ Funny you should say that, as a matter of fact, the choir will be doing a rap interpretation of their songs.”
“ Gosh. I can’t imagine How Great thou art in rap, or Just as I am. This should be interesting.”
“ Listen, Mrs. Albermarle, I’ve got to call the others on the list, so I’d better go.”
The day flew by, calls came and went, email updates flew across the internet highway. Then-
“ Is it true? I just heard that Fred was clawed to death by a bear cub who had escaped the Asheboro Zoo!! And his funeral has been postponed because they haven’t located all of his limbs yet. Is it true?”
Then-
“ I hate to bother you church lady, but CNN is reporting that there’s a rap band gone missing and they are all suspects in an abduction of a non-participating member of our church, they found some sheet music, a hearing aid and a torn up cubs jacket over on highway 48. The cameras flashed a picture of our front yard, the front yard of the parsonage on TV. Is it someone from our church?”
This Church lady has learned that the fewer voices in the pot the better.
Funerals are an animal all their own. They bring out the best and worst of people. Some people just need an outlet to sigh. They need a reason to release. I’ll be typing away at my desk and I’ll hear the footsteps in the hallway as someone approaches the information white board.
“Belva Sprat. I’ll be. Sighhhhhh.” Then off they’ll go.
“ Oh, look. Craig Asphalt. Didn’t he have that freak appendix accident?” sighhhhhh,.
“ MMM, mmm. MMM. Sighhhhhhhhhh.”
Sometimes, when it seems like tensions are high around the halls, I will sporadically add a pretend person to the white board in the hallway- just to offer passers- by an opportunity to let a little bit of their stress go. Haven’t had complaints yet. Actually, morale seems pretty high right now. And we’ve had 4 funerals in the last four weeks. I wonder if there’s a connection somewhere.
On another note, one would think that a funeral is not an occasion to be impatient or self-minded. And so it is with great dismay that I share this tidbit.. a funeral came up……
I called ushers to come in; on this particular funeral planning escapade, I had a very hard time finding people available . For a while I thought I may have to don a suit and just give it a go. I figured I could add ushering to my job description or resume.I have to admit that I don’t know how to tie a man’s tie, and actually, I felt lucky when I didn’t’ have to pitch hit usher. In the course of my phone calling I came upon a very irritated usher-potential.
“ No, I CANNOT usher that funeral. ……Really…I might say that if you could just give me a little more notice next time, I may be able to rearrange my schedule. I really need more notice than this.”
More notice? More notice? Okay. Let me just mention that to the deceased. How careless to die without any forewarning to those who may be involved in carrying his cedar shavings down the aisle.
Here lies Chester
Bart stepped away from the door and went into the hallway. He rolled his bag on wheels into the office.
“ I call this my dead zone.” He rummaged around the bag. I was overcome with a wave of dead zone nausea and left.
Bart did his thing and left without so much as a “see ya, chick” and the day’s frantic momentum swept away the hours. The next day started out crazy, and I never even had a minute to think about what was in the closet, in fact, it wasn’t until a weekend later, that I remembered Bart’s visit, and I opened the door to see if Chester was still with us.
“Oh, Lordy, what died?” my office neighbor called out from her office two doors down. “Rank”
I got down on my knees and looked under the rolling table. There he was. Lying in wait. The little brown/gray body lay on its side, looking sweeter than Jesus himself. Jesus rose from the dead, but poor Chester was glued to his fate. Jesus’ stone rolled away, probably down hill flattening a few of Chester’s ancestors, no doubt. Such is the way of the world. Chester the church mouse looked as if he was resting peacefully. His two tiny front paws were nestled under his chin and I could see the shine of his front prong teeth even in the shadowed closet light. He still had a bit of sunflower seed shell sticking out of the side of his rigormortised mouth. Despite all that, I was overcome with a longing to have been able to know him. All he probably wanted to do in life was eat seeds and chew. Is that so much to ask? Poor Chester. Poor poor chester.
I put my phone on DNR and closed my office door but not all the way. I sat in my chair and turned towards the window. The bird feeder still sat in wait of the birds who had not been able to find it.
“Oh, life is sad today”,I thought to myself. I spoke to the window panes that held up the bird feeder.
“All the good I could do for the birds and small creatures of the world, what a shame, what a loss. First Chester, now this. The bird feeder that didn’t feed. Where is God when you really need to know?”
Then it came to me. My moment of spiritual wisdom. I was awakened to the thought that God was indeed present. More than that even, God was looking out for the little creatures I was trying to nurish.. I stood at the window and looked out.
My window faced a brick wall in a small alley. One end was open to the yard, and on the other end was another window. To the unseeing or un noticing eyes, the bird feeder might look as if it was just hanging in mid air. In reality, if a bird were to zoom in, I could see no other outcome other than SPLAT! Into my window or the brick wall. Oh, My. Gosh. Yes. My window was a draw to those flying by, a dangerous draw, this murderous thought had just occurred to me. That must be why my birdfeeder had not been visited yet. God was keeping the birds away. And letting Chester have his fill.
As this revelation hit home, I decided that Chester deserved a proper burial. I marched into the kitchen and found an appropriate sized bag, then I got another and I gently placed my stuck in the glue little unknown friend into the bag, tied it twice, and then double bagged him. That’s what we do for those we really truly love. We double bag them.
I placed him in the trash can/ columbariumette, and placed a paint stick cross in with him, that had this on it:
Here lies Chester the church mouse
Born :recently died Easter Weekend
He was a good mouse.
Sometimes it’s the little revelations that bring our faith to light.
Church Chick
“ I call this my dead zone.” He rummaged around the bag. I was overcome with a wave of dead zone nausea and left.
Bart did his thing and left without so much as a “see ya, chick” and the day’s frantic momentum swept away the hours. The next day started out crazy, and I never even had a minute to think about what was in the closet, in fact, it wasn’t until a weekend later, that I remembered Bart’s visit, and I opened the door to see if Chester was still with us.
“Oh, Lordy, what died?” my office neighbor called out from her office two doors down. “Rank”
I got down on my knees and looked under the rolling table. There he was. Lying in wait. The little brown/gray body lay on its side, looking sweeter than Jesus himself. Jesus rose from the dead, but poor Chester was glued to his fate. Jesus’ stone rolled away, probably down hill flattening a few of Chester’s ancestors, no doubt. Such is the way of the world. Chester the church mouse looked as if he was resting peacefully. His two tiny front paws were nestled under his chin and I could see the shine of his front prong teeth even in the shadowed closet light. He still had a bit of sunflower seed shell sticking out of the side of his rigormortised mouth. Despite all that, I was overcome with a longing to have been able to know him. All he probably wanted to do in life was eat seeds and chew. Is that so much to ask? Poor Chester. Poor poor chester.
I put my phone on DNR and closed my office door but not all the way. I sat in my chair and turned towards the window. The bird feeder still sat in wait of the birds who had not been able to find it.
“Oh, life is sad today”,I thought to myself. I spoke to the window panes that held up the bird feeder.
“All the good I could do for the birds and small creatures of the world, what a shame, what a loss. First Chester, now this. The bird feeder that didn’t feed. Where is God when you really need to know?”
Then it came to me. My moment of spiritual wisdom. I was awakened to the thought that God was indeed present. More than that even, God was looking out for the little creatures I was trying to nurish.. I stood at the window and looked out.
My window faced a brick wall in a small alley. One end was open to the yard, and on the other end was another window. To the unseeing or un noticing eyes, the bird feeder might look as if it was just hanging in mid air. In reality, if a bird were to zoom in, I could see no other outcome other than SPLAT! Into my window or the brick wall. Oh, My. Gosh. Yes. My window was a draw to those flying by, a dangerous draw, this murderous thought had just occurred to me. That must be why my birdfeeder had not been visited yet. God was keeping the birds away. And letting Chester have his fill.
As this revelation hit home, I decided that Chester deserved a proper burial. I marched into the kitchen and found an appropriate sized bag, then I got another and I gently placed my stuck in the glue little unknown friend into the bag, tied it twice, and then double bagged him. That’s what we do for those we really truly love. We double bag them.
I placed him in the trash can/ columbariumette, and placed a paint stick cross in with him, that had this on it:
Here lies Chester the church mouse
Born :recently died Easter Weekend
He was a good mouse.
Sometimes it’s the little revelations that bring our faith to light.
Church Chick
Church Mouse Chester
I decided that we should probably give Chester, the church mouse, some incentive to leave, so I moved the food supply, and planned to get some sort of back packing equipment for him, you know, something that looks sort of like a trap, but one that would let him keep his head. I figured Chester couldn’t be much bigger than a few inches, as the crack under the door, his entryway, was very small. I went to my superior to seek advice.
My boss, the business administrator is one of the most efficient people I know. He wants everything to run smooth as silk, and he works very hard to make that happen. It’s a gift. And sometimes it makes me smile. His efforts to be productive irritate the equipment at times. The office equipment that resides in the copy room has a rep already, I’ve mentioned the psychotic copy machine and the rough-guy riso before. The human Business Admin and the rowdy machines have a never-ending feud. Other than that, my boss can jump right into a problem and nip it better than Barney Fife. Knowing this is why I was not surprised the very next morning after venting my angst over sharing my office with a rodent, I had a visit from Bart the Big Bad Exterminating Man.
Bart used to be a manly man, but the chemicals in his job became a hazard for his brain, and now , well, Bart is just Bart. He battles depression, being in the business of killing, its no wonder. But he talks tough. And he’s good at what he does.
Bart came in announcing, “ I hear we’ve got rodent problems”. Bart is a team player.
“You wanna show me where we’re keeping him? What we’re feeding him?”
I stepped back and pointed to the closet doors, then slipped off my shoes and climbed into my ergonomically correct desk chair.
“um hmmm. Oh, yes,… Let’s see… yep. Ah… hmmm. Okay.” He wiped his brow and leaned against the door frame.
“Let me think a minute what we’ve got here.” His eyes rolled back in his head as it rested against the frame, and his arm began to involuntarily pump the poison pumper can he kept with him at all times.
“ I’ll tell you what we’ve got her, missy.” Bart slid his tongue across his front teeth and opened his eyes. They turned toward me, but I was having such a hard time balancing in my ergonomically correct desk chair that his eyes could not track me, so he just looked past me when he spoke.
“We’re got a church mouse here, Lady. That’s what this is … yeap. A regular church mouse. Right here in your closet.”
I waited to hear something I didn’t already know. Then I wondered if I should act relieved, maybe Bart thought that I had been thinking that I had something else living in my closet like an alligator or an iquana, but I just nodded and held onto my computer monitor.
“I’ll tell you one thing I bet you don’t know, though.”
I waited. His eyebrows raised to ready position .We looked at each other, well…. I tried to look at him, but everytime I looked up I lost my balance, so I just kept my head down and said, “What?”
“We’re not gonna have one here much longer. That’s what.”
Church Chick
My boss, the business administrator is one of the most efficient people I know. He wants everything to run smooth as silk, and he works very hard to make that happen. It’s a gift. And sometimes it makes me smile. His efforts to be productive irritate the equipment at times. The office equipment that resides in the copy room has a rep already, I’ve mentioned the psychotic copy machine and the rough-guy riso before. The human Business Admin and the rowdy machines have a never-ending feud. Other than that, my boss can jump right into a problem and nip it better than Barney Fife. Knowing this is why I was not surprised the very next morning after venting my angst over sharing my office with a rodent, I had a visit from Bart the Big Bad Exterminating Man.
Bart used to be a manly man, but the chemicals in his job became a hazard for his brain, and now , well, Bart is just Bart. He battles depression, being in the business of killing, its no wonder. But he talks tough. And he’s good at what he does.
Bart came in announcing, “ I hear we’ve got rodent problems”. Bart is a team player.
“You wanna show me where we’re keeping him? What we’re feeding him?”
I stepped back and pointed to the closet doors, then slipped off my shoes and climbed into my ergonomically correct desk chair.
“um hmmm. Oh, yes,… Let’s see… yep. Ah… hmmm. Okay.” He wiped his brow and leaned against the door frame.
“Let me think a minute what we’ve got here.” His eyes rolled back in his head as it rested against the frame, and his arm began to involuntarily pump the poison pumper can he kept with him at all times.
“ I’ll tell you what we’ve got her, missy.” Bart slid his tongue across his front teeth and opened his eyes. They turned toward me, but I was having such a hard time balancing in my ergonomically correct desk chair that his eyes could not track me, so he just looked past me when he spoke.
“We’re got a church mouse here, Lady. That’s what this is … yeap. A regular church mouse. Right here in your closet.”
I waited to hear something I didn’t already know. Then I wondered if I should act relieved, maybe Bart thought that I had been thinking that I had something else living in my closet like an alligator or an iquana, but I just nodded and held onto my computer monitor.
“I’ll tell you one thing I bet you don’t know, though.”
I waited. His eyebrows raised to ready position .We looked at each other, well…. I tried to look at him, but everytime I looked up I lost my balance, so I just kept my head down and said, “What?”
“We’re not gonna have one here much longer. That’s what.”
Church Chick
Church Mouse
There are seasons to the chaos that surround the church community. Christmas, of course, and then the Easter season. People spend forty days trying to avoid their most craved-for items, then blow it all on day 41 and spend the next few days regretting the whole cycle. People use the time to turn over new leaves, to start on a better path, clearer thinking, and the search for Jesus’s footsteps peaks.
In the church, Church Chicks sit right in the middle of it all. The parishioners, drop by, share their tales of woe and want, the Pastors fly through with rapid phrased directions, shorthand conversations fill the season. Did you? How will we? Yes, how tall is the floral cross? Plan and process, preach and pray. Day in/day out. It’s a very busy season. The pastoral and other church staff are busier than Santa’s elves in the Lenten season. So much to do, so many to help, so much to learn. Sigh…
In the crazy scheme of this high speed season, sometimes, unknowingly, the little ones are neglected. I mean, doesn’t God love everything? Every ant, and dust mite? God doesn’t just look after or guide the people around town, no. Our God is an all loving God.
This is where the Church Ladies come in. Although not written in any job description, it is the frazzle- fraught CL’s that look down into the corners of life, and while many pastoral staff are trying to keep their heads up and focused on heavenly times, sometimes it is in the shadowed cracks and crevices where the other creatures in need of love and acceptance dwell.
This CL decided to spread her wings and welcome critters, church critters. I bought a bird feeder and suctioned it onto my office window, then filled it with delectable bird seed. A month later, it still sticks, and the seed is still there, a few seeds have now fallen into my window sill flower pots and are growing. I’ll transplant the sunflowers to the church beds when they get a little taller.
I was so certain that the birds would immediately flock to the food, that I bought a king size bag of only the best! It has been residing in my church lady closet all this time. Last week, while cleaning out my closet, I noticed that the seeds had spilled.
I pulled out the shelves and table and found that somehow, the spill had managed to pour itself into a straight line. I followed the seed line across my closet where it dead ended into a pile of shelled seeds at the base of my file cabinet. Curious. How did that happen?
Then it hit me. I had a real live CHURCH MOUSE!! I squealed with delight, as any church lady might, and the attentive staff, hearing my lilting cries rushed to see what my excitement was all about. Twenty minutes later, when I had grown tired of hanging from my ceiling fixture and had agreed to come down ( only to stand on my desk, mind you, no floor) we discussed the situation.
What a dilemma. On one hand, I loved being graced with a church mouse. On the other hand, I wanted to seek out that little critter and invite him to take a lengthy nap under my telephone book, with a heavy lamp or two on top.
Church Chick
In the church, Church Chicks sit right in the middle of it all. The parishioners, drop by, share their tales of woe and want, the Pastors fly through with rapid phrased directions, shorthand conversations fill the season. Did you? How will we? Yes, how tall is the floral cross? Plan and process, preach and pray. Day in/day out. It’s a very busy season. The pastoral and other church staff are busier than Santa’s elves in the Lenten season. So much to do, so many to help, so much to learn. Sigh…
In the crazy scheme of this high speed season, sometimes, unknowingly, the little ones are neglected. I mean, doesn’t God love everything? Every ant, and dust mite? God doesn’t just look after or guide the people around town, no. Our God is an all loving God.
This is where the Church Ladies come in. Although not written in any job description, it is the frazzle- fraught CL’s that look down into the corners of life, and while many pastoral staff are trying to keep their heads up and focused on heavenly times, sometimes it is in the shadowed cracks and crevices where the other creatures in need of love and acceptance dwell.
This CL decided to spread her wings and welcome critters, church critters. I bought a bird feeder and suctioned it onto my office window, then filled it with delectable bird seed. A month later, it still sticks, and the seed is still there, a few seeds have now fallen into my window sill flower pots and are growing. I’ll transplant the sunflowers to the church beds when they get a little taller.
I was so certain that the birds would immediately flock to the food, that I bought a king size bag of only the best! It has been residing in my church lady closet all this time. Last week, while cleaning out my closet, I noticed that the seeds had spilled.
I pulled out the shelves and table and found that somehow, the spill had managed to pour itself into a straight line. I followed the seed line across my closet where it dead ended into a pile of shelled seeds at the base of my file cabinet. Curious. How did that happen?
Then it hit me. I had a real live CHURCH MOUSE!! I squealed with delight, as any church lady might, and the attentive staff, hearing my lilting cries rushed to see what my excitement was all about. Twenty minutes later, when I had grown tired of hanging from my ceiling fixture and had agreed to come down ( only to stand on my desk, mind you, no floor) we discussed the situation.
What a dilemma. On one hand, I loved being graced with a church mouse. On the other hand, I wanted to seek out that little critter and invite him to take a lengthy nap under my telephone book, with a heavy lamp or two on top.
Church Chick
Night phone
Even though it seems like a day on the job with a church chic lasts 24 hours, it isn’t true. There are times when the CLs go home and have a life. Well, I’ve heard that to be true. The point here is to address communication. When the office is vacant, there must be some way for those in need to contact the church and the venue for this is called “night”.
The term is heard ‘round the globe. Church ladies shut down their PCs, collect their umbrellas and flowered bags and step across the threshold between church and the rest of the world. “I’m leaving and I’ve left it on night.”
“ It’s on night, bye, see you next week” ...“ Don’t forget to leave it on night”.
“G’Night”
So, what IS this “night” that keeps falling into the exit phrases?
Night is the invisible, cloaked CL who sits faithfully by the office phone waiting for it to sing in the dark. Inevitably it does. Night fills the void for callers seeking help or in need of prayer. Night calms the worried souls when there’s no one else around to do it. Night keeps desperate minded callers hanging on a little longer. The night message can be programmed to say whatever it takes to meet the moment.
Some excerpts from the popular CL Book of Rules of Reason include:
“Thanks for calling. The office is closed now, but God’s arms are always open, and his ears listening, so , at the beep, leave your message !
“You have reached Altima United Progressive Christian Church. Your call is important to us, so please leave your name and number and a brief message and after prayerful consideration, we might return your call”
“Hi. God is watching you, and that will have to do for now.”
“Hello. You have reached a wrong number. Please try again later.”
“ If you have reached this recording and are looking for God’s words or wisdom, wrap your palms around a bible and seek out a quiet corner and see if you can find God somewhere in those pages. If not, call back Monday after 9.
Church Chick
The term is heard ‘round the globe. Church ladies shut down their PCs, collect their umbrellas and flowered bags and step across the threshold between church and the rest of the world. “I’m leaving and I’ve left it on night.”
“ It’s on night, bye, see you next week” ...“ Don’t forget to leave it on night”.
“G’Night”
So, what IS this “night” that keeps falling into the exit phrases?
Night is the invisible, cloaked CL who sits faithfully by the office phone waiting for it to sing in the dark. Inevitably it does. Night fills the void for callers seeking help or in need of prayer. Night calms the worried souls when there’s no one else around to do it. Night keeps desperate minded callers hanging on a little longer. The night message can be programmed to say whatever it takes to meet the moment.
Some excerpts from the popular CL Book of Rules of Reason include:
“Thanks for calling. The office is closed now, but God’s arms are always open, and his ears listening, so , at the beep, leave your message !
“You have reached Altima United Progressive Christian Church. Your call is important to us, so please leave your name and number and a brief message and after prayerful consideration, we might return your call”
“Hi. God is watching you, and that will have to do for now.”
“Hello. You have reached a wrong number. Please try again later.”
“ If you have reached this recording and are looking for God’s words or wisdom, wrap your palms around a bible and seek out a quiet corner and see if you can find God somewhere in those pages. If not, call back Monday after 9.
Church Chick
Funerals Part II
The morning dawned hot and muggy. I arrived early and parked in my usual spot. I had no sooner slammed my car door when the building super flagged me down with an orange cone. “ Gotta move this vehicle, gotta move it now, ma’am”. I dodged the cones as he animatedly showed me where I needed to park. I got back in and re-parked.
When I came inside, I could tell that my boss had been in the office a while;a big clue was the well-worn path in the hallway just outside his office. He tends to pace when he’s working on a big project. My peanut jar was empty, and lay abandoned on the corner of my desk. An anxious voice eeked through the closed door. “The bulletins, the bulletins, I can't find them-where are they?” I looked in the copy room and found a pile of unfolded funeral programs hiding on the bottom shelf left in the back. “ Here they are, I called out before coaxing the stowaway pages- "Come on now, little ecrues, lovely printed pages, come to the church lady” and they did. I gave him a copy and in a flash, he was gone. My phone began to ring. Everyone who rang had an urgent request or question.“ What time is it? Have the flowers arrived? Is the visitation room set up? What day is it? what time is it? How many teaspoons in a tablespoon?"
I began to notice strangers roaming the hall in suits and high heels. I slipped on my business jacket and slipped OFF my shoes. My feet were safely hidden under my desk. I tucked them under the Yoga Ball I keep stashed under there.
The business administrator pranced into my work space holding a lightbulb in his hand. He curled his arm up until he was holding the bulb at eye level.
I thought for a moment he was going to pop it in his mouth and show off his magical powers of illumination, but instead he informed me that we had a problem. I like my bosses. The business admin is most delightful when he is chipper, and most entertaining when he is stressed.
I picked up the phone and called the super. “ Lightbulb on aisle 6, please” A bulb appeared within seconds of my request. “
I don’t know where it goes, will you come with me?” Shoes onboard, we walked into the sacred ritual space and found the organ sitting depressed in the dark sanctuary. The music light snapped on just fine, I felt around the pedals and found a vacant outlet and screwed the bulb in. The organ was immediately illuminated. It was ready to play. Tick tick tick… The altar guild women began to arrive, their white jackets snapped on and newly pressed. They are like white bees. They buzz around the area directing people to the sanctuary, the bathroom , the Kleenex..
I went back into my office when, “ The organist has gone missing!!!” The organist we were able to get was not our usual in -house player. She apparently had wandered into the church without being noticed, and it now appeared she had either changed her mind, or been abducted. We put out an all points bulletin and started searching the building- All 3 floors and stairwells, wings and closets. While we were wandering about, she had found her way into the sanctuary where the newly illuminated organ drew her attention. Whew. Another disaster averted. I was afraid I might have to fake it and play organ grinder for the service. I figured I could chime out Jesus Loves me, the all occassion hymn. It was nearly show time. My boss slipped on his robe. It transformed his energy into calming strength. This is such an interesting transition, a miracle of sorts on a crazy day, I might add.
I could smell the aroma of bereavement food coming from the kitchen. I changed my radio from rock to classical in honor of the occasion.
People continued to come. The funeral home manager requested additional podiums for guest books. Pictures were set up, telling the story of the life of the deceased. So much to do, all for someone who was already gone. I wondered if he was happy in his life.I wondered if he knew this many people respected him? I hoped that wherever he was now, that he felt better for being here.
The funeral played out, the only quiet hour of the day, and the chaos settled a bit. Up and down, and all around. Settled til next time.
Funerals are a lot more than remembrance rituals. A lot.
Church Chick
When I came inside, I could tell that my boss had been in the office a while;a big clue was the well-worn path in the hallway just outside his office. He tends to pace when he’s working on a big project. My peanut jar was empty, and lay abandoned on the corner of my desk. An anxious voice eeked through the closed door. “The bulletins, the bulletins, I can't find them-where are they?” I looked in the copy room and found a pile of unfolded funeral programs hiding on the bottom shelf left in the back. “ Here they are, I called out before coaxing the stowaway pages- "Come on now, little ecrues, lovely printed pages, come to the church lady” and they did. I gave him a copy and in a flash, he was gone. My phone began to ring. Everyone who rang had an urgent request or question.“ What time is it? Have the flowers arrived? Is the visitation room set up? What day is it? what time is it? How many teaspoons in a tablespoon?"
I began to notice strangers roaming the hall in suits and high heels. I slipped on my business jacket and slipped OFF my shoes. My feet were safely hidden under my desk. I tucked them under the Yoga Ball I keep stashed under there.
The business administrator pranced into my work space holding a lightbulb in his hand. He curled his arm up until he was holding the bulb at eye level.
I thought for a moment he was going to pop it in his mouth and show off his magical powers of illumination, but instead he informed me that we had a problem. I like my bosses. The business admin is most delightful when he is chipper, and most entertaining when he is stressed.
I picked up the phone and called the super. “ Lightbulb on aisle 6, please” A bulb appeared within seconds of my request. “
I don’t know where it goes, will you come with me?” Shoes onboard, we walked into the sacred ritual space and found the organ sitting depressed in the dark sanctuary. The music light snapped on just fine, I felt around the pedals and found a vacant outlet and screwed the bulb in. The organ was immediately illuminated. It was ready to play. Tick tick tick… The altar guild women began to arrive, their white jackets snapped on and newly pressed. They are like white bees. They buzz around the area directing people to the sanctuary, the bathroom , the Kleenex..
I went back into my office when, “ The organist has gone missing!!!” The organist we were able to get was not our usual in -house player. She apparently had wandered into the church without being noticed, and it now appeared she had either changed her mind, or been abducted. We put out an all points bulletin and started searching the building- All 3 floors and stairwells, wings and closets. While we were wandering about, she had found her way into the sanctuary where the newly illuminated organ drew her attention. Whew. Another disaster averted. I was afraid I might have to fake it and play organ grinder for the service. I figured I could chime out Jesus Loves me, the all occassion hymn. It was nearly show time. My boss slipped on his robe. It transformed his energy into calming strength. This is such an interesting transition, a miracle of sorts on a crazy day, I might add.
I could smell the aroma of bereavement food coming from the kitchen. I changed my radio from rock to classical in honor of the occasion.
People continued to come. The funeral home manager requested additional podiums for guest books. Pictures were set up, telling the story of the life of the deceased. So much to do, all for someone who was already gone. I wondered if he was happy in his life.I wondered if he knew this many people respected him? I hoped that wherever he was now, that he felt better for being here.
The funeral played out, the only quiet hour of the day, and the chaos settled a bit. Up and down, and all around. Settled til next time.
Funerals are a lot more than remembrance rituals. A lot.
Church Chick
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Funerals Part I
I have made a discovery. I have had an “aha” moment. I’ve been looking for one of those ever since I began my job as a church lady/chick. I was certain that working so closely to help God’s work get done would certainly present a clarity for me. An answer to my questions of faith. 9 months into the job, I believe that those ideas were frivolous fantasy. The fact of the matter is that faith is faith, and a church is a building that houses a miniature world and when you enter the doors or spend any time within the confines of the church walls, you enter a slide show of life. Unfortunately, there’s no guarantee of a clear message from God showing up in your outlook inbox, though.
The minutes of a day in the life of a church lady are filled with variety, just like life is. I find a macabre-Addams Familyesk humor in some aspects of the job. Take funeral planning for instance…. funerals can offer so many opportunities for mass chaos. It seems ironic the amount of energy it takes to help someone rest in peace.
A Funeral is a bipolar beast. The initial announcement brings up all sorts of emotions in people. Sadness, of course. Shock, grief, relief, confusion, bitterness, you name it-and disequilibrium flows through the hallways like forced air. Sitting in the church lady’s chair, I am privy to all of that.
Mostly, the Pastors carry the burden of supporting the family through their dark moments- my job comes later, I'm parked in the wings with my handy notepad in hand, ready at the wait. Occassionally, such as this week, I had to step up to the plate. I prefer my wing-space and manage the moments much better from that distance. Perspective is everything.
A call comes in. A quiet voice whispers that a loved one has passed. I used to keep an ongoing list of quick responses such as “ well, it was her time…… Oh, I’m so sorry….. She’s with God now,………He’s in a better place now…..” . Now, I look at those silly comments and I think to myself, “ how the heck would I know if it is or it isn’t her time?... ..I don’t know who God is much less where he resides, nor do I know if he/she is receiving guests….. as far as better place goes, well there are days when I’m thinking any place is better than the place my life sits at the moment, so I’m not sold on that comment whole heartedly.
Now a days, I just say simpler things like, “ I’m so sorry, what can I do for you? …or if they are in house when the news is shared, I offer a hug. The fact of the matter is that nothing helps the pain of loss, nothing that we have control over anyway. There are instances when family talks for weeks about how much a loved one is hanging on, how they wish it would just be over, then, when it is, well.. it’s hard to let go regardless. And so the hourglass slows a bit, as the sand runs through us when we hear the news….
Then POP! It’s time to plan! Throwing a funeral is in some ways similar to throwing a surprise birthday party without the surprise. I haven’t yet been to a service for the dead that includes having the congregation pop up out of their pews when the body or urn enters to yell surprise.. No, can’t say that I’ve heard of that one. But the details are similar. Instead of invites, there’s the obituary. Instead of cake and icecream, there’s a family meal or light reception. Instead of chaperones, we have ushers. Event directors? See-Altar Guild. Caterers? Call the Bereavement Committee. Instead of gifts, there are memorials. Someone asked me once, how many _____( religion withheld, substitute as you see fit) does it take to change a lightbulb? The answer is NONE- as it is a memorial gift and can’t be touched.
No Karaoke band or DJ,- music comes via organ. Reception toasts or roasts? – Funerals offer sermons, and childhood stories. The two events parallel in many ways. The biggest difference is the time factor. 48 hours tops to pull a Funeral extravaganza together. Take the details for the birthday party and caffeinate them then hold on.
I came into work this morning, and poked my head into my boss’s office. The doorknob was warm and that is never good. If he’s got frenetic energy going, his whole office temp raises 10 degrees. I knew I was in trouble when I opened the door as my glasses fogged. There he sat, facing his computer typing away a mile a minute. The keyboard was puffing out smoke with each stroke. His phone receiver lay splayed out on his desk hissing. The cool hallway air hit him up side his head and he snapped around to face me. “We’ve got a lot to do, to pull together. We need ushers, quick quick, and an organist. Ben is handling the food, but we need to tell the bereavement committee so they won’t cook, too. I’m working on my sermon for Sunday, I have 3 counseling sessions today before lunch, and my article for the newsletter was due yesterday, I’ve got to visit the family, we don’t have the flowers figured out yet, there’s some issue with flower urn size and delivery time……I ran 6 miles before breakfast, and had a pre-dawn meeting before my usual weekly breakfast meeting. I think its gonna be a busy day.” Now, a few months ago, I might have dropped my morning mail and run away. I know better now. This is the process at work. The process of planning a funeral. …so I stayed in my position, one hand holding onto the door frame, the other on the door knob. I looked at him and said all that I could say, “okay” and I left him to his tasks. I entered my office, prioritizing as I went. First things first. I checked my desktop jar of MnM/peanuts. I figured he’d be in for a protein/chocolate fix momentarily. I refilled my container of comfort foods and sat at my desk. I called and arranged and waited and called back and before the day was over, the pieces had started coming together.
Part II
The minutes of a day in the life of a church lady are filled with variety, just like life is. I find a macabre-Addams Familyesk humor in some aspects of the job. Take funeral planning for instance…. funerals can offer so many opportunities for mass chaos. It seems ironic the amount of energy it takes to help someone rest in peace.
A Funeral is a bipolar beast. The initial announcement brings up all sorts of emotions in people. Sadness, of course. Shock, grief, relief, confusion, bitterness, you name it-and disequilibrium flows through the hallways like forced air. Sitting in the church lady’s chair, I am privy to all of that.
Mostly, the Pastors carry the burden of supporting the family through their dark moments- my job comes later, I'm parked in the wings with my handy notepad in hand, ready at the wait. Occassionally, such as this week, I had to step up to the plate. I prefer my wing-space and manage the moments much better from that distance. Perspective is everything.
A call comes in. A quiet voice whispers that a loved one has passed. I used to keep an ongoing list of quick responses such as “ well, it was her time…… Oh, I’m so sorry….. She’s with God now,………He’s in a better place now…..” . Now, I look at those silly comments and I think to myself, “ how the heck would I know if it is or it isn’t her time?... ..I don’t know who God is much less where he resides, nor do I know if he/she is receiving guests….. as far as better place goes, well there are days when I’m thinking any place is better than the place my life sits at the moment, so I’m not sold on that comment whole heartedly.
Now a days, I just say simpler things like, “ I’m so sorry, what can I do for you? …or if they are in house when the news is shared, I offer a hug. The fact of the matter is that nothing helps the pain of loss, nothing that we have control over anyway. There are instances when family talks for weeks about how much a loved one is hanging on, how they wish it would just be over, then, when it is, well.. it’s hard to let go regardless. And so the hourglass slows a bit, as the sand runs through us when we hear the news….
Then POP! It’s time to plan! Throwing a funeral is in some ways similar to throwing a surprise birthday party without the surprise. I haven’t yet been to a service for the dead that includes having the congregation pop up out of their pews when the body or urn enters to yell surprise.. No, can’t say that I’ve heard of that one. But the details are similar. Instead of invites, there’s the obituary. Instead of cake and icecream, there’s a family meal or light reception. Instead of chaperones, we have ushers. Event directors? See-Altar Guild. Caterers? Call the Bereavement Committee. Instead of gifts, there are memorials. Someone asked me once, how many _____( religion withheld, substitute as you see fit) does it take to change a lightbulb? The answer is NONE- as it is a memorial gift and can’t be touched.
No Karaoke band or DJ,- music comes via organ. Reception toasts or roasts? – Funerals offer sermons, and childhood stories. The two events parallel in many ways. The biggest difference is the time factor. 48 hours tops to pull a Funeral extravaganza together. Take the details for the birthday party and caffeinate them then hold on.
I came into work this morning, and poked my head into my boss’s office. The doorknob was warm and that is never good. If he’s got frenetic energy going, his whole office temp raises 10 degrees. I knew I was in trouble when I opened the door as my glasses fogged. There he sat, facing his computer typing away a mile a minute. The keyboard was puffing out smoke with each stroke. His phone receiver lay splayed out on his desk hissing. The cool hallway air hit him up side his head and he snapped around to face me. “We’ve got a lot to do, to pull together. We need ushers, quick quick, and an organist. Ben is handling the food, but we need to tell the bereavement committee so they won’t cook, too. I’m working on my sermon for Sunday, I have 3 counseling sessions today before lunch, and my article for the newsletter was due yesterday, I’ve got to visit the family, we don’t have the flowers figured out yet, there’s some issue with flower urn size and delivery time……I ran 6 miles before breakfast, and had a pre-dawn meeting before my usual weekly breakfast meeting. I think its gonna be a busy day.” Now, a few months ago, I might have dropped my morning mail and run away. I know better now. This is the process at work. The process of planning a funeral. …so I stayed in my position, one hand holding onto the door frame, the other on the door knob. I looked at him and said all that I could say, “okay” and I left him to his tasks. I entered my office, prioritizing as I went. First things first. I checked my desktop jar of MnM/peanuts. I figured he’d be in for a protein/chocolate fix momentarily. I refilled my container of comfort foods and sat at my desk. I called and arranged and waited and called back and before the day was over, the pieces had started coming together.
Part II
Be careful what you ask for
Number 56.
Be careful what you ask for.
Occasionally, members will be in need of tools, props, equipment. Some facilities store such things for the sole purpose of being able to meet their members’ needs when they arise.
It is not unusual to have a member call in a request for a potty chair, cane, or other such hospital stuff. Sometimes, the asking comes as a surprise, say for such things as a popcorn machine, breast pump, or CPR dummy twins. More common are beggings for big paper pads or tripods, slide projectors, cotton candy machines, large print Bibles and Hymnals in Latin. A well-trained CL will not be rattled by any request. Church Ladies take it all in and then decide and sort. If, say for instance a call comes in for a hot lunch, if it happens to be your best friend, by all means, find it and take it. On the other hand, if someone calls for the name of someone who can take out their X, it would be a good idea to just let that one roll. Mostly, those folks have unlisted numbers anyway. As far as equipment requests go though, it is up to the CL to try to meet the honest needs of these requests. So, if a particular item is not to be found on site, then the CL becomes a resource to find one. This is where the careful what you ask for part comes in. Our example today includes a potty seat. One could not be found on site, so the CL sent out an email to a large number of the congregation inquiring about the availability of one. She had an almost immediate response and was thrilled. Today, three days later, she is getting calls from the same person who requested the potty chair, threatening to egg the church if another one of those damn travel toilets lands on her front porch. Apparently,in a very involved congregation, people like to be helpful.
More later- this church lady needs a potty break.
Be careful what you ask for.
Occasionally, members will be in need of tools, props, equipment. Some facilities store such things for the sole purpose of being able to meet their members’ needs when they arise.
It is not unusual to have a member call in a request for a potty chair, cane, or other such hospital stuff. Sometimes, the asking comes as a surprise, say for such things as a popcorn machine, breast pump, or CPR dummy twins. More common are beggings for big paper pads or tripods, slide projectors, cotton candy machines, large print Bibles and Hymnals in Latin. A well-trained CL will not be rattled by any request. Church Ladies take it all in and then decide and sort. If, say for instance a call comes in for a hot lunch, if it happens to be your best friend, by all means, find it and take it. On the other hand, if someone calls for the name of someone who can take out their X, it would be a good idea to just let that one roll. Mostly, those folks have unlisted numbers anyway. As far as equipment requests go though, it is up to the CL to try to meet the honest needs of these requests. So, if a particular item is not to be found on site, then the CL becomes a resource to find one. This is where the careful what you ask for part comes in. Our example today includes a potty seat. One could not be found on site, so the CL sent out an email to a large number of the congregation inquiring about the availability of one. She had an almost immediate response and was thrilled. Today, three days later, she is getting calls from the same person who requested the potty chair, threatening to egg the church if another one of those damn travel toilets lands on her front porch. Apparently,in a very involved congregation, people like to be helpful.
More later- this church lady needs a potty break.
The white board
Some churches have a message board where dying, sick, prayer-needing people are listed. The board holds good news and bad, and takes different forms depending on the communication priority levels of said church. Some use a black or green chalk board, others slam sticky notes on a door or nearby window, bulletin boards are popular in certain parts of the country, too. More recently, a modern version of the chalk board called a white board has taken on the role of message board. There are times when the board is overflowing with information, and then there are other times, when the sick have gotten better or moved on to a better place. These are important moments, as there is nothing more depressing than an empty white board, message board, or a chalk-dusty black board. It is the church lady’s responsibility to keep depression as low as the sense itself whenever possible.
Holidays can make or break a church staff. It’s true, and you know it. Think about it. Holidays carry a punch all on their own, multiply that pow by a congregation-fold and you’ve got the makings for a number one value-sized down-in –the-dumps for the clergy who interact so closely with the church peoples. One method of keeping the seasonal lows as low as possible is to manipulate the messages that get fed to the message board.
Here are some examples of Holiday fodder for the board:
MONDAY’S BOARD:
· Sam sludge in ICU at Western Wake
· Junie Jacobs’ great grand mom died Sunday night
· Baby en-route with Mary and Joseph
TUESDAY
· Sam Sludge still in ICU
· Junie’s great g’mom funeral Tuesday week at 2
· 3 Wise guys spotted following a bright UFO
WEDNESDAY
· Sam Sludge moved to Rex rehab
· Alice Allison broke her ankle
· Stray cows and donkeys are migrating towards Bethel Manger Inn
THURSDAY
· Sam…
· Alice..
· There was a non-violent demonstration of winged creatures chanting Taize verse near and around a manger in nearby Bethlehem
· Lost: 1 clay jar of Myrrh. If found, please contact Mel at www.Melacor.org
· Wanted: Tan Tabby double humped camel carrying gold and 2 bottles of spray frankincense. Last seen on Sandway #42.
FRIDAY
· Sam went home
· Alice is on crutches
· This just in: The Herald Angel sisters sing that while shepherds watched their flocks, it came upon a midnight clear that 3 magi, after finishing their 10:00 show at the Manger’s Inn, headed over to Bethlehem and noticed that away in a manger lay a swaddled figure. The first Angel, Noel, was quoted as saying “Hey, ya’ll… What child is this?”
The second sister, Joy, said to the world, “Go tell it on the mountain”. A passing sheep commented later to this reporter that , “That’s Mary’s boy child, man. Know what I mean? Like, take a closer look, man”.
The boy child’s dad, Joe P. Seph sat around an open fire roasting chestnuts with the magi trio. The proud father bragged about the new babe. “That’s my boy, weighed in at just 6 stones, and has a cry that can holy a silent night.” Congrats to Mary and Joe on the birth of their holy child
· Babe will arrive on or around midnight ( barring sandstorm activity) tomorrow night on AA flight 1224.
Holidays can make or break a church staff. It’s true, and you know it. Think about it. Holidays carry a punch all on their own, multiply that pow by a congregation-fold and you’ve got the makings for a number one value-sized down-in –the-dumps for the clergy who interact so closely with the church peoples. One method of keeping the seasonal lows as low as possible is to manipulate the messages that get fed to the message board.
Here are some examples of Holiday fodder for the board:
MONDAY’S BOARD:
· Sam sludge in ICU at Western Wake
· Junie Jacobs’ great grand mom died Sunday night
· Baby en-route with Mary and Joseph
TUESDAY
· Sam Sludge still in ICU
· Junie’s great g’mom funeral Tuesday week at 2
· 3 Wise guys spotted following a bright UFO
WEDNESDAY
· Sam Sludge moved to Rex rehab
· Alice Allison broke her ankle
· Stray cows and donkeys are migrating towards Bethel Manger Inn
THURSDAY
· Sam…
· Alice..
· There was a non-violent demonstration of winged creatures chanting Taize verse near and around a manger in nearby Bethlehem
· Lost: 1 clay jar of Myrrh. If found, please contact Mel at www.Melacor.org
· Wanted: Tan Tabby double humped camel carrying gold and 2 bottles of spray frankincense. Last seen on Sandway #42.
FRIDAY
· Sam went home
· Alice is on crutches
· This just in: The Herald Angel sisters sing that while shepherds watched their flocks, it came upon a midnight clear that 3 magi, after finishing their 10:00 show at the Manger’s Inn, headed over to Bethlehem and noticed that away in a manger lay a swaddled figure. The first Angel, Noel, was quoted as saying “Hey, ya’ll… What child is this?”
The second sister, Joy, said to the world, “Go tell it on the mountain”. A passing sheep commented later to this reporter that , “That’s Mary’s boy child, man. Know what I mean? Like, take a closer look, man”.
The boy child’s dad, Joe P. Seph sat around an open fire roasting chestnuts with the magi trio. The proud father bragged about the new babe. “That’s my boy, weighed in at just 6 stones, and has a cry that can holy a silent night.” Congrats to Mary and Joe on the birth of their holy child
· Babe will arrive on or around midnight ( barring sandstorm activity) tomorrow night on AA flight 1224.
Resourcefulness?? never can have enough
So- resourcefulness is always a requirement, and is sometimes a spur of the moment experience.
Say, for instance a day starts out a little frantic, maybe staff meeting runs over, maybe a large part of the meeting is dedicated to discussing the congregational demands for coffee. Members are complaining about not having enough available caffeine between SS and Church. They don’t like the location of the coffee wells, or they take issue with the strength of the hot liquid. Important matters such as these can add time to important staffmeetings.
Yes, perhaps the day in the twilight zone of the church lady starts out as such. Then it progresses to copy machine mania .. and then, maybe a little fender bender makes itself known in the church parking lot, and then in the middle of trying to calm the senior citizen who clipped the church lady’s car, a full beef tenderloin lands in the church lady’s only free hand. The grocery bag is hung over her gaping claws, the delivery person mouthing who it needs to go to…. Be delivered to….while her other hand is clutching the phone, the church lady is multitasking, reading lips and trying to decipher what the insurance company is telling her about her car over the phone. Meanwhile, the driver impaired senior is pacing the hallways of God, trying to beg forgiveness for his sins, then forgetting what those sins were, and then further forgetting who he is praying to – oh the chaos of a cold Monday.
An experienced Church Chick will not let such mania distract her from her duties. She may very well remain on hold, squeezing the receiver between her ear and shoulder, freeing up a hand to uncrank her office window. Looping the plastic bag over the window lock, she may push the meat outside and quick crank the window shut. Now, when the tenderloin is picked up, it will be well chilled. Problem solved.
The insurance people will call back, so that call can end.
Leaving the Church Chick with the pacing orthopedic shoes. There’s a rhythm to pacing, ladies. If you stand and just watch the doorway, the pattern will emerge.. Similar to jumping rope, time your entrance, and just take a giant step into the travel path of the pacer and wait with open arms. Hug the distraught soul, and send them on their way. Then, be grateful for the mentor who trained you so well. An inexperienced CL may not have fared so well.
Church Chick
Say, for instance a day starts out a little frantic, maybe staff meeting runs over, maybe a large part of the meeting is dedicated to discussing the congregational demands for coffee. Members are complaining about not having enough available caffeine between SS and Church. They don’t like the location of the coffee wells, or they take issue with the strength of the hot liquid. Important matters such as these can add time to important staffmeetings.
Yes, perhaps the day in the twilight zone of the church lady starts out as such. Then it progresses to copy machine mania .. and then, maybe a little fender bender makes itself known in the church parking lot, and then in the middle of trying to calm the senior citizen who clipped the church lady’s car, a full beef tenderloin lands in the church lady’s only free hand. The grocery bag is hung over her gaping claws, the delivery person mouthing who it needs to go to…. Be delivered to….while her other hand is clutching the phone, the church lady is multitasking, reading lips and trying to decipher what the insurance company is telling her about her car over the phone. Meanwhile, the driver impaired senior is pacing the hallways of God, trying to beg forgiveness for his sins, then forgetting what those sins were, and then further forgetting who he is praying to – oh the chaos of a cold Monday.
An experienced Church Chick will not let such mania distract her from her duties. She may very well remain on hold, squeezing the receiver between her ear and shoulder, freeing up a hand to uncrank her office window. Looping the plastic bag over the window lock, she may push the meat outside and quick crank the window shut. Now, when the tenderloin is picked up, it will be well chilled. Problem solved.
The insurance people will call back, so that call can end.
Leaving the Church Chick with the pacing orthopedic shoes. There’s a rhythm to pacing, ladies. If you stand and just watch the doorway, the pattern will emerge.. Similar to jumping rope, time your entrance, and just take a giant step into the travel path of the pacer and wait with open arms. Hug the distraught soul, and send them on their way. Then, be grateful for the mentor who trained you so well. An inexperienced CL may not have fared so well.
Church Chick
Phone trials. Don't give up
Phone trials. Don’t give up. Phone bonding can make or break the success of the CL. Not only as a connection to the outside world, the phones also offer staff wide connections. Use the phone as a primo communication tool. Some phones encourage this by offering an extension-wide intercom tool. When learning this technique, it might be a good idea to choose a time when not many, or better yet, when NO one is actually at their phone, in their office or in the building. Use this tool to announce “Staff meeting in five minutes, five minutes until staff.” Beep or “This is a reminder that staff self-evaluations are now due.”
“Price check on aisle one” is not an appropriate use of this method of communication. “Clean up puke in the parlor” is also not recommended.
“ Rick, line 2. RICK” May or may not be useful and should probably only be used when “Rick” cannot be located for an important call.
An occasional, “ Just checking, Is everyone doing okay?” can be used on rare occasions.
“Price check on aisle one” is not an appropriate use of this method of communication. “Clean up puke in the parlor” is also not recommended.
“ Rick, line 2. RICK” May or may not be useful and should probably only be used when “Rick” cannot be located for an important call.
An occasional, “ Just checking, Is everyone doing okay?” can be used on rare occasions.
The listening ear
The listening ear.One of the biggest tasks of the CL and one that offers surprises as well as unexpected turns in the day.
If the CL’s office is dually cozy, warm and welcoming, then the office remains full of well meaning members and sundry visitors. Some are more sundry than others, of course. Be prepared for everything. A two year old clinging to his mom may enjoy looking at a board book, a three or four year old may like to look in the treasure chest that lives under the desk because he/she never knows what will be in it- stickers? Toys? What??
Irate and irritated folks may release their angst more freely if the sitting furniture is comfortable and well worn.
Lamp light will open up the tightest lipped folks, so use it carefully as TMI is a possibility. The stories that are revealed within the confines of the CL’s office can be most informative, yes. Careful what you ask….
“ So, Mrs. Smith, any relation to Benji Smith? I know that she is also a member here…..”
“ The Smith family goes back to 1822, the smiths had 12 children and my mother’s father married my cousin’s third uncle who had 5 children and then none of them gave birth, so there you have it in a nutshell, CL, we’re all cousins. I married my 3rd cousin twice removed and renovated.”
“Well. How about that?”
Hazards and solutions…
Sometimes people come in seeking assistance. Most are truthful and in need, others are not so truthful, though they may be in need of something different than they think. On occasion, aromatic visitors may inhabit the CL’s office. This is why keeping a small dish with gum on the desk within reach is helpful. In the event that the aromatic visitor leaves behind a pungent waif, here’s a new-found solution.
Listen for the weekly landscape guys. When the blowers get close, leap from your desk and run outside and grab their attention. If the landscape guys do not speak especially good English, then offer them the hand signals that demonstrate where your office window is and then, gently grasp the blower and aim it that way. Rush back into the office and open the windows. Wave the confused landscapers in, in, in. Then step away from the window.
Momentarily, leaves, small sticks and dust will fly through the window and into the office area. Do not be alarmed by this. These items bring with them fresh, outside air. It is a well known fact that only city pollution can offset certain strengths of visitor aroma. Close the window and pull out the hand vac. It is well worth the effort.
It is important to act on this ASAP. Carpet and upholstery absorb significant aroma pretty quickly. Some CL’s have more experience with odor removal than others. Trust this source. If office plants are wilting, it may be too late for the air-blow clearance plan. In these circumstances, I suggest purchasing OUST or Citrus Orange.
We hope these tidbits of advice come in handy from time to time.
If the CL’s office is dually cozy, warm and welcoming, then the office remains full of well meaning members and sundry visitors. Some are more sundry than others, of course. Be prepared for everything. A two year old clinging to his mom may enjoy looking at a board book, a three or four year old may like to look in the treasure chest that lives under the desk because he/she never knows what will be in it- stickers? Toys? What??
Irate and irritated folks may release their angst more freely if the sitting furniture is comfortable and well worn.
Lamp light will open up the tightest lipped folks, so use it carefully as TMI is a possibility. The stories that are revealed within the confines of the CL’s office can be most informative, yes. Careful what you ask….
“ So, Mrs. Smith, any relation to Benji Smith? I know that she is also a member here…..”
“ The Smith family goes back to 1822, the smiths had 12 children and my mother’s father married my cousin’s third uncle who had 5 children and then none of them gave birth, so there you have it in a nutshell, CL, we’re all cousins. I married my 3rd cousin twice removed and renovated.”
“Well. How about that?”
Hazards and solutions…
Sometimes people come in seeking assistance. Most are truthful and in need, others are not so truthful, though they may be in need of something different than they think. On occasion, aromatic visitors may inhabit the CL’s office. This is why keeping a small dish with gum on the desk within reach is helpful. In the event that the aromatic visitor leaves behind a pungent waif, here’s a new-found solution.
Listen for the weekly landscape guys. When the blowers get close, leap from your desk and run outside and grab their attention. If the landscape guys do not speak especially good English, then offer them the hand signals that demonstrate where your office window is and then, gently grasp the blower and aim it that way. Rush back into the office and open the windows. Wave the confused landscapers in, in, in. Then step away from the window.
Momentarily, leaves, small sticks and dust will fly through the window and into the office area. Do not be alarmed by this. These items bring with them fresh, outside air. It is a well known fact that only city pollution can offset certain strengths of visitor aroma. Close the window and pull out the hand vac. It is well worth the effort.
It is important to act on this ASAP. Carpet and upholstery absorb significant aroma pretty quickly. Some CL’s have more experience with odor removal than others. Trust this source. If office plants are wilting, it may be too late for the air-blow clearance plan. In these circumstances, I suggest purchasing OUST or Citrus Orange.
We hope these tidbits of advice come in handy from time to time.
The Church Lady "Rules of Reason"
“Chocolate should be worn as well as consumed. It makes a statement and suggests power in the CL community.”
……..as per the Church Ladies Rules of Reason
……..as per the Church Ladies Rules of Reason
Job skills of the CL
Church ladies are pushed to find new and different ways of keeping their co-workers in line. It is easy to be buried under a heap of small projects that float in one paperclipped parcel at a time. often, one project is indeed a fast and easy task, but many times the paperclip hides the fine print and it isn't until mid way through that you realize what you've got. Now, we CLs know our abilities. We've got plenty or we wouldn't be in this biz- Apps for CLs are skill-specific, and rightly so.
have you birthed a human before
have you driven in the dark with your headlights off and reached your destination?
have you talked your way out of a ticket?
More than once?
have you birthed a human before
have you driven in the dark with your headlights off and reached your destination?
have you talked your way out of a ticket?
More than once?
Church Lady Subscription
Thank you for inquiring about The Church Lady Chronicles-
Subscriptions are free- for a limited time, of course, and we'd like to offer you this
wonderful opportunity!!
The Church Lady Chronicles will enlighten those who wonder what it is that
Church ladies actually do-
Research shows that the daily experiences of Church Chicks parallel life in general.
For instance, the frustrations parents endure while trying to manage their teenage daughters often times resembles the frustration of trying to use a multi-line phone with no labels on the buttons and that has a permanent set of engraved directions on the back of the black phone, embossed black on black, and in a language not- of –this- universe.
The potential for understanding between the parents/teens and the CL/phone is pretty much the same. Even on a good day, when conversations are almost coherent with young adults, there are moments when you almost connect, then, without warning, tempers flare, hormones rage, and the conversation goes down the drain.
In the life of a Church lady, the phone rings, she answers it, realizes that it is still ringing; she is so close to having a connection, so close. She puts the receiver on the desk to (AHA!) read the directions that have been place so conveniently on the underneath side of the phone, and realizes when she turns the machine over to read it, that her call is immediately disconnected. So close, in both situations. and yet....
We look forward to hearing from our subscribers, feedback is very helpful to us-
We will send you the back issues tomorrow, as soon as we have your reply.
Thanks again for your interest in The Church Lady Chronicles
Subscriptions are free- for a limited time, of course, and we'd like to offer you this
wonderful opportunity!!
The Church Lady Chronicles will enlighten those who wonder what it is that
Church ladies actually do-
Research shows that the daily experiences of Church Chicks parallel life in general.
For instance, the frustrations parents endure while trying to manage their teenage daughters often times resembles the frustration of trying to use a multi-line phone with no labels on the buttons and that has a permanent set of engraved directions on the back of the black phone, embossed black on black, and in a language not- of –this- universe.
The potential for understanding between the parents/teens and the CL/phone is pretty much the same. Even on a good day, when conversations are almost coherent with young adults, there are moments when you almost connect, then, without warning, tempers flare, hormones rage, and the conversation goes down the drain.
In the life of a Church lady, the phone rings, she answers it, realizes that it is still ringing; she is so close to having a connection, so close. She puts the receiver on the desk to (AHA!) read the directions that have been place so conveniently on the underneath side of the phone, and realizes when she turns the machine over to read it, that her call is immediately disconnected. So close, in both situations. and yet....
We look forward to hearing from our subscribers, feedback is very helpful to us-
We will send you the back issues tomorrow, as soon as we have your reply.
Thanks again for your interest in The Church Lady Chronicles
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Funerals Part II
The morning dawned hot and muggy. I arrived early and parked in my usual spot. I had no sooner slammed my car door when the building super flagged me down with an orange cone. “ Gotta move this vehicle, gotta move it now, ma’am”. I dodged the cones as he animatedly showed me where I needed to park. I got back in and re-parked.
When I came inside, I could tell that my boss had been there a while, as he had left a well-worn path in the hallway outside his office. He tends to pace when he’s working on a big project. My peanut jar was empty, and lay abandoned on the corner of my desk. “The bulletins, where are they?” I looked in the copy room and found a pile of unfolded funeral programs hiding on the bottom shelf left in the back. “ Here they are, come on now, little ecrues- come to the church lady” and they did. I gave him a copy and in a flash, he was gone. My phone began to ring. “ What time is it? Have the flowers arrived? Is the visitation room set up? What day is it what time is it How many teaspoons in a tablespoon?
I began to notice strangers roaming the hall in suits and high heels. I slipped on my business jacket and slipped OFF my shoes. My feet were safely hidden under my desk. Itucked them under the Yoga Ball I keep stashed under there.
The business admin pranced into my space holding a lightbulb in his hand. He curled his arm up until he was holding the bulb at eye level.
I thought for a moment he was going to pop it in his mouth and show off his magical powers of illumination, but instead he informed me that we had a problem. I like my bosses. The business admin is most delightful when he is chipper, and most entertaining when he is stressed.
I picked up the phone and called the super. “ Lightbulb on aisle 6, please” A bulb appeared within seconds of my request. “ I don’t know where it goes, will you come with me?” Shoes onboard, we walked into the sacred ritual space and found the organ sitting depressed in the dark sanctuary. The music light snapped on just fine, I felt around the pedals and found a vacant outlet and screwed the bulb in. The organ was immediately illuminated. It was ready to play. Tick tick tick… The altar guild began to arrive, their white jackets snapped on and newly pressed. They are like white bees. They buzz around the area directing people to the sanctuary, the bathroom , the Kleenex..
I went back into my office when, “ The organist has gone missing!!!” The organist we were able to get was not our usual in house player. She apparently had wandered in without being noticed, and it now appeared she had either changed her mind, or been abducted. We put out an all points bulletin and started searching the building. While we were wandering about, she had found her way into the sanctuary where the newly illuminated organ drew her attention. It was nearly show time. My boss slipped on his robe. It transformed his energy into calming strength.
I could smell the aroma of bereavement food coming from the kitchen. I changed my radio from rock to classical in honor of the occasion.
People continued to come. The funeral home manager requested additional podiums for guest books. Pictures were set up, telling the story of the life of the deceased. So much to do, all for someone who was already gone. I wondered if he was happy in his life.I wondered if he knew this many people respected him? I hoped that wherever he was now, that he felt better for being here.
The funeral played out, the only quiet hour of the day, and the chaos settled a bit. Up and down, and all around. Settled til next time.
Funerals are a lot more than remembrance rituals. A lot.
Church Chick
When I came inside, I could tell that my boss had been there a while, as he had left a well-worn path in the hallway outside his office. He tends to pace when he’s working on a big project. My peanut jar was empty, and lay abandoned on the corner of my desk. “The bulletins, where are they?” I looked in the copy room and found a pile of unfolded funeral programs hiding on the bottom shelf left in the back. “ Here they are, come on now, little ecrues- come to the church lady” and they did. I gave him a copy and in a flash, he was gone. My phone began to ring. “ What time is it? Have the flowers arrived? Is the visitation room set up? What day is it what time is it How many teaspoons in a tablespoon?
I began to notice strangers roaming the hall in suits and high heels. I slipped on my business jacket and slipped OFF my shoes. My feet were safely hidden under my desk. Itucked them under the Yoga Ball I keep stashed under there.
The business admin pranced into my space holding a lightbulb in his hand. He curled his arm up until he was holding the bulb at eye level.
I thought for a moment he was going to pop it in his mouth and show off his magical powers of illumination, but instead he informed me that we had a problem. I like my bosses. The business admin is most delightful when he is chipper, and most entertaining when he is stressed.
I picked up the phone and called the super. “ Lightbulb on aisle 6, please” A bulb appeared within seconds of my request. “ I don’t know where it goes, will you come with me?” Shoes onboard, we walked into the sacred ritual space and found the organ sitting depressed in the dark sanctuary. The music light snapped on just fine, I felt around the pedals and found a vacant outlet and screwed the bulb in. The organ was immediately illuminated. It was ready to play. Tick tick tick… The altar guild began to arrive, their white jackets snapped on and newly pressed. They are like white bees. They buzz around the area directing people to the sanctuary, the bathroom , the Kleenex..
I went back into my office when, “ The organist has gone missing!!!” The organist we were able to get was not our usual in house player. She apparently had wandered in without being noticed, and it now appeared she had either changed her mind, or been abducted. We put out an all points bulletin and started searching the building. While we were wandering about, she had found her way into the sanctuary where the newly illuminated organ drew her attention. It was nearly show time. My boss slipped on his robe. It transformed his energy into calming strength.
I could smell the aroma of bereavement food coming from the kitchen. I changed my radio from rock to classical in honor of the occasion.
People continued to come. The funeral home manager requested additional podiums for guest books. Pictures were set up, telling the story of the life of the deceased. So much to do, all for someone who was already gone. I wondered if he was happy in his life.I wondered if he knew this many people respected him? I hoped that wherever he was now, that he felt better for being here.
The funeral played out, the only quiet hour of the day, and the chaos settled a bit. Up and down, and all around. Settled til next time.
Funerals are a lot more than remembrance rituals. A lot.
Church Chick
Funerals 'R 'Us
I have made a discovery. I have had an “aha” moment. I’ve been looking for one of those ever since I began my job as a church lady/chick. I was certain that working so closely to help God’s work get done would certainly present a clarity for me. An answer to my questions of faith. 9 months into the job, I believe that those ideas were frivolous fantasy. The fact of the matter is that faith is faith, and a church is a building that houses a miniature world and when you enter the doors or spend any time within the confines of the church walls, you enter a slide show of life. Unfortunately, there’s no guarantee of a clear message from God showing up on your outlook inbox, though.
The minutes of a day in the life of a church lady are filled with variety, just like life is. I find a macabre-Addams Familyesk humor in some aspects of the job. Take funeral planning for instance…. funerals can offer so many opportunities for mass chaos. It seems ironic the amount of energy it takes to help someone rest in peace.
A Funeral is a bipolar beast. The initial announcement brings up all sorts of emotions in people. Sadness, of course. Shock, grief, relief, confusion, bitterness, you name it-and disequilibrium flows through the hallways like forced air. Sitting in the church lady’s chair, I am privy to all of that.
A call comes in. A quiet voice whispers that a loved one has passed. I used to keep an ongoing list of quick responses such as “ well, it was her time…… Oh, I’m so sorry….. She’s with God now,………He’s in a better place now…..” . Now, I look at those silly comments and I think to myself, “ how the heck would I know if it is or it isn’t her time?... ..I don’t know who God is much less where he resides, nor do I know if he/she is receiving guests….. as far as better place goes, well there are days when I’m thinking any place is better than the place my life sits at the moment, so I’m not sold on that comment whole heartedly.
Now a days, I just say simpler things like, “ I’m so sorry, what can I do for you? …or if they are in house when the news is shared, I offer a hug. The fact of the matter is that nothing helps the pain of loss, nothing that we have control over anyway. There are instances when family talks for weeks about how much a loved one is hanging on, how they wish it would just be over, then, when it is, well.. it’s hard to let go regardless. And so the hourglass slows a bit, as the sand runs through us when we hear the news….
Then POP! It’s time to plan! Throwing a funeral is in some ways similar to throwing a surprise birthday party without the surprise. I haven’t yet been to a service for the dead that includes having the congregation pop up out of their pews when the body or urn enters to yell surprise.. No, can’t say that I’ve heard of that one. But the details are similar. Instead of invites, there’s the obituary. Instead of cake and icecream, there’s a family meal or light reception. Instead of chaperones, we have ushers. Event directors? See-Altar Guild. Caterers? Call the Bereavement Committee. Instead of gifts, there are memorials. Someone asked me once, how many _____( religion withheld, substitute as you see fit) does it take to change a lightbulb? The answer is NONE- as it is a memorial gift and can’t be touched.
No Karaoke band or DJ,- music comes via organ. Reception toasts or roasts? – Funerals offer sermons, and childhood stories. The two events parallel in many ways. The biggest difference is the time factor. 48 hours tops to pull a Funeral extravaganza together. Take the details for the birthday party and caffeinate them the hold on.
I came into work this morning, and poked my head into my boss’s office. The doorknob was warm and that is never good. If he’s got frenetic energy going, his whole office temp raises 10 degrees. I knew I was in trouble when I opened the door as my glasses fogged. There he sat, facing his computer typing away a mile a minute. The keyboard was puffing out smoke with each stroke. His phone receiver lay splayed out on his desk hissing. The cool hallway air hit him up side his head and he snapped around to face me. “We’ve got a lot to do, to pull together. We need ushers, quick quick, and an organist. Ben is handling the food, but we need to tell the bereavement committee so they won’t cook, too. I’m working on my sermon for Sunday, I have 3 counseling sessions today before lunch, and my article for the newsletter was due yesterday, I’ve got to visit the family, we don’t have the flowers figured out yet, there’s some issue with flower urn size and delivery time……I ran 6 miles before breakfast, and had a pre-dawn meeting before my usual weekly breakfast meeting. I think its gonna be a busy day.” Now, a few months ago, I might have dropped my morning mail and run away. I know better now. This is the process at work. The process of planning a funeral. …so I stayed in my position, one hand holding onto the door frame, the other on the door knob. I looked at him and said all that I could say, “okay” and I left him to his tasks. I entered my office, prioritizing as I went. First things first. I checked my desktop jar of MnM/peanuts. I figured he’d be in for a protein/chocolate fix momentarily. I refilled my container of comfort foods and sat at my desk. I called and arranged and waited and called back and before the day was over, the pieces had started coming together.
Part II
The Big Day
Church Chick
The minutes of a day in the life of a church lady are filled with variety, just like life is. I find a macabre-Addams Familyesk humor in some aspects of the job. Take funeral planning for instance…. funerals can offer so many opportunities for mass chaos. It seems ironic the amount of energy it takes to help someone rest in peace.
A Funeral is a bipolar beast. The initial announcement brings up all sorts of emotions in people. Sadness, of course. Shock, grief, relief, confusion, bitterness, you name it-and disequilibrium flows through the hallways like forced air. Sitting in the church lady’s chair, I am privy to all of that.
A call comes in. A quiet voice whispers that a loved one has passed. I used to keep an ongoing list of quick responses such as “ well, it was her time…… Oh, I’m so sorry….. She’s with God now,………He’s in a better place now…..” . Now, I look at those silly comments and I think to myself, “ how the heck would I know if it is or it isn’t her time?... ..I don’t know who God is much less where he resides, nor do I know if he/she is receiving guests….. as far as better place goes, well there are days when I’m thinking any place is better than the place my life sits at the moment, so I’m not sold on that comment whole heartedly.
Now a days, I just say simpler things like, “ I’m so sorry, what can I do for you? …or if they are in house when the news is shared, I offer a hug. The fact of the matter is that nothing helps the pain of loss, nothing that we have control over anyway. There are instances when family talks for weeks about how much a loved one is hanging on, how they wish it would just be over, then, when it is, well.. it’s hard to let go regardless. And so the hourglass slows a bit, as the sand runs through us when we hear the news….
Then POP! It’s time to plan! Throwing a funeral is in some ways similar to throwing a surprise birthday party without the surprise. I haven’t yet been to a service for the dead that includes having the congregation pop up out of their pews when the body or urn enters to yell surprise.. No, can’t say that I’ve heard of that one. But the details are similar. Instead of invites, there’s the obituary. Instead of cake and icecream, there’s a family meal or light reception. Instead of chaperones, we have ushers. Event directors? See-Altar Guild. Caterers? Call the Bereavement Committee. Instead of gifts, there are memorials. Someone asked me once, how many _____( religion withheld, substitute as you see fit) does it take to change a lightbulb? The answer is NONE- as it is a memorial gift and can’t be touched.
No Karaoke band or DJ,- music comes via organ. Reception toasts or roasts? – Funerals offer sermons, and childhood stories. The two events parallel in many ways. The biggest difference is the time factor. 48 hours tops to pull a Funeral extravaganza together. Take the details for the birthday party and caffeinate them the hold on.
I came into work this morning, and poked my head into my boss’s office. The doorknob was warm and that is never good. If he’s got frenetic energy going, his whole office temp raises 10 degrees. I knew I was in trouble when I opened the door as my glasses fogged. There he sat, facing his computer typing away a mile a minute. The keyboard was puffing out smoke with each stroke. His phone receiver lay splayed out on his desk hissing. The cool hallway air hit him up side his head and he snapped around to face me. “We’ve got a lot to do, to pull together. We need ushers, quick quick, and an organist. Ben is handling the food, but we need to tell the bereavement committee so they won’t cook, too. I’m working on my sermon for Sunday, I have 3 counseling sessions today before lunch, and my article for the newsletter was due yesterday, I’ve got to visit the family, we don’t have the flowers figured out yet, there’s some issue with flower urn size and delivery time……I ran 6 miles before breakfast, and had a pre-dawn meeting before my usual weekly breakfast meeting. I think its gonna be a busy day.” Now, a few months ago, I might have dropped my morning mail and run away. I know better now. This is the process at work. The process of planning a funeral. …so I stayed in my position, one hand holding onto the door frame, the other on the door knob. I looked at him and said all that I could say, “okay” and I left him to his tasks. I entered my office, prioritizing as I went. First things first. I checked my desktop jar of MnM/peanuts. I figured he’d be in for a protein/chocolate fix momentarily. I refilled my container of comfort foods and sat at my desk. I called and arranged and waited and called back and before the day was over, the pieces had started coming together.
Part II
The Big Day
Church Chick
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