The first hymn was an old favorite, but the congregation still managed to lag a beat behind the organist. As the preacher stepped up to the pulpit, we could all see he’d come right from his chicken coop. His boots left a trail of hay in front of the choir.
Children who hadn’t seen each other for months wiggled and squiggled until they were dismissed to musty classrooms. The preacher lost his place twice, and missed a line of the Beatitudes.
Sunday clothes were too tight, thanks to two years of stress eating. The communal coffee tasted burnt.
It was perfect.
Excellent I think there will be many places experiencing this.
Realistic and well written.
Great piece
Could really picture it, very authentic.
nicely done 🙂
This is such a sweet story!
I love your graceful positive ending. It’s what we all need to remember. Grace has been my word this past week and this expresses it perfectly.
Thank you everyone for reading and taking the time to comment. We often write what we need, and I need to envision a better future.