Tag Archives: church

Somebody Hates Us

11 Aug

signFor quite a while, our church has had trouble with vandalism. Fence posts have been broken, plants pulled up, rocks thrown, and so forth.

The worst of the abuse has been heaped on the signs we put up out on the main road through town.  One of our members has very generously provided a large “tent” with a sign on each side. Most of the time the signs are for our regular Sunday services, but when we are having an event of some sort, he pays for signs to advertise those, too.

The signs have been closed and laid down, the plastic has been cut with a knife and the signs themselves slashed, and now this one – which is covered with plexi, rather than thin plastic – has been defaced with spray paint. This was not a “crime of opportunity”; it shows some forethought. Who carries spray paint in the car?

Fortunately, somebody happened to see the car “hovering” in the parking lot one evening and made note of the license plate.  Next step is to call in the police – and the local newspaper.

Enough is enough!

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Visitors

2 Aug

Last week we had a visit at church from a long ago former member, and today we had a visit from fairly recent former member, who has returned – more or less- to the area.

Mary and her family moved to Texas in 1977, and she comes up about every other year with her daughter, son-in-law, and who knows how many nieces and nephews, all of whom are good solid church members.  It made me a little jealous, as only one of our girls goes to church, and none of the grandkids. I worry about all of them. One of our grandsons is in Air Force, and I’m just glad he’s out of harm’s way, and not a pilot.

Today’s visitor was a young man – about our daughter’s age – who moved to Florida with his parents when he was in his twenties. He pops back from time to time, but now has a job in Annapolis, which is, as he said, an hour and $4 each way, so he’ll probably only be coming once a month. Still he’s back home, and has said he’s willing to be a reader when he’s here. And we can always use the help.

The Church Dog

29 Jul

When I go to knitting on Monday evenings and Wednesday mornings, I almost always take Blazer along. He has a mad crush on Miss Kathy, the secretary, who always gives him treats, and acts as Official Greeter for another group that meets on Wednesday mornings, sitting by the door and waiting for a pat on the head.

He also goes with me when I am on Altar Guild, and knows he can follow me anyplace but up onto the altar steps. He stops and flops down on the carpet, once even resting his chin on the step, and waits for me to get things done, then trots back to the sacristy while I finish up. Ah, if only he had opposable thumbs!

The last couple of times I’ve gotten ready to leave, he’s come out the door, and then flopped on the grass, refusing to move. This morning, I had to go back in for something, and he leapt to his feet, dashing back inside with me, but wouldn’t leave the front lawn. I finally had to get his leash out of the car to get him to follow me.

Mind you, this is a dog who  won’t eat until we say grace, so it’s hardly surprising. The Squire says we should just get him a white collar and rename him Deacon.

In the Name of the Father

4 May

This morning, Fr. M, the organist, and I were discussing plans for the service on the 25th. He will be away, and we will have a supply.  I always serve as chalistist on the last Sunday, as it is Rite I, which I infinitely prefer to Rite II.

This will also be our Memorial Day service, as it will be in places of worship all over the United States. I asked the organist, that if she was going to do Eternal Father, to please use it as the recessional. I explained that I had followed my father’s coffin to the cemetery to that hymn – and began to cry.  M+ put his arm around me and asked if I really thought I could make it back down the aisle without falling to pieces. I nodded, and mumbled “If we hurry”. He promised he’d have the supply “keep an eye on me”.  He had had to follow me into the narthex last Veterans Day, and put me in his office, out of sight, until I was fit to be seen in public.

My dad died fifteen years ago, on the first of May. You’d think I’d have managed to keep myself held together after all this time.

I talk a lot about my mum, simply because she was such an “odd duck”, to be as kind as possible. Dealing with her was like watching a bird feeder. You never knew what was coming next, and her foibles make good fodder for funny stories.

I don’t have a lot of stories to tell about my dad, simply because his kindness was so constant. One time I offered to scrub the kitchen floor for my mum; I was probably about eleven, and the job had to be done on hands and knees with a scrub brush and bucket. I got about three-quarters finished and was totally wiped out, and nearly in tears from exhaustion. He quietly tapped me on the shoulder and silently nodded his head, then got down and finished the floor for me.  I used to get earaches, and he would hold me on his lap and blow cigar smoke into my ears to melt the wax. Was it the warmth of his breath or just snuggling up that made me feel better?

My dad was like a big old wing chair. Always there, steady, comfortable, soft where he needed to be, and firm when he had to be.  And I still miss him. Dreadfully.

Telephone Troubles

15 Mar

The Verizon service at church went out last Wednesday, and when we called the company they told us that they are no longer servicing the copper phone lines. We will have to take FIOS, whether we want it or not, and they couldn’t possibly get to us until Monday. We arranged to have the church’s phone calls forwarded to Fr. Matthew’s cell phone, which worked out well because he was on Spring break (He is a full-time teacher.). The Squire went over to church this morning to meet with the installer, to make sure everything was ready to go.

Well.

First of all, because the church has always had a P.O. Box, we were never issued an actual house number. We are simply at the corner of Bridge and Anchor Drives, both of which are dead end streets. With the advent of GPS, we had to have a “real” number, so the Post Office gave us 700 Anchor Drive – which never comes up on GPS, anyway. The phone company informed us that since we didn’t show on the GPS, they couldn’t/wouldn’t be able to come out. OK. Fine.  The Squire gave them the address for the house diagonally across the street from the church, 1 Bridge Drive, and made it very clear – he thought – that they were to look over their shoulder and go to the church, not the house.

As I said, this morning, the installer and The Squire met at the church. First of all, somehow or other Miss Utility has not been out (this is the phone company’s bailiwick, not ours), and will not be able to come out until Tuesday, at the earliest, so we probably won’t have phone service all week.  Second, the installer discovered that somebody had been out – and had installed FIOS to the house across the street! GLDU!

How can you have a work order in your hand that says “Church of the Resurrection” and think a ranch house is the place you want? Especially since you have to face the church (it’s on a dead-end street, remember?) which has a sign on either side of the parking lot…oh, never mind! The Squire swears he is dealing with former government employees, refugees from Cake Wrecks (http://cakewrecks.squarespace.com/), total idiots – or a lethal combination of all three.