Being Good in Church

We weren’t the best kids, even in church. Mom and Dad had to keep a sharp eye out for us even then. My brother, Ken and I knew that our sister, Kathy hated and nearly went bonkers when she heard a finger nail clippers being clicked shut. For some reason, that sound set her off and it still does to this day.

She was younger and had to sit with Mom and Dad. I was older and Mom allowed me to sit with friends. Waiting for a silent moment in the service, I’d snip a fingernail. CLICK. I would watch Kathy’s head whip around like the girl in The Exorcist. The only difference was Kathy didn’t levitate off the pew and spew split pea soup out of her mouth. Her eyes would shoot daggers across the sanctuary and I would sit and stare forward, smiling inside. Sometimes I’d wait, letting her settle, then snip a second nail.

When my sister grew older, a friend of hers would often sit with her. Her friend would grab the back of the pew in front of her and scoot under the seat, scooting on the wooden floor, and swing back into the seat again. One time, Kathy’s friend’s hands slipped and she slid across the floor under the next four pews. She flipped herself over and scrambled back to her seat, face red with embarrassment. Kathy almost popped a gut, trying to keep from laughing out loud.

During a Christian Endeavor Meeting, the youth led part of it. A friend of ours, Joyce was up front and reading a lesson. She began to smile and could barely finish the reading without laughing.

My brother Ken had cut a jack ball in half. He sat where she could see him and put half of the ball in each eye socket and squinted, holding them in place. She had to look at him staring at her with unblinkim=ng red jack ball eyes. I’m sure it took major will power to finish her reading.

When Ken was younger, he would race down a pew and jump over the end. It happened several times. Mom warned him not to do it again. The next Sunday, Ken ran down a pew and jumped. He saw my Mom coming down the main aisle, He cringed in the corner of a pew at the back of his class area, saying, “No, Mom, no.”

It was too late. Mom grabbed his arm and hauled him outside. Once outside, she dusted the seat of his pants, then said, “Don’t cry. You’re going right back inside.” After a few sniffles, Mom took him back inside. On the way home, Mom said, “From now on, I want you to listen and tell me what your lesson is about.”

Several Sundays later, Mom asked, “What was your lesson about today?”

Nearing the Christmas season, Ken said, “It was about the three wise guys.” He had listened and it was close.