Barneyisfat

My Sunday School class had just finished up our second hymn. We only had the services of the organist for a few minutes and two hymns was usually our limit. The second hymn fit the lesson plan but was unfamiliar to most; Alma, the hymn leader, and I were the only voices that could be heard singing strongly. We finished up and closed our hymn books. From the back of the class Pete piped up and asked, "Alma, ... 17?" She grinned gently and nodded. Pete, an older man who often wore a bright green suitcoat and looks as though he spent many years "building his testimony" before he came to Christ, was filled with joy. His eyes glowed and danced simaltaneously, like fireworks, and he smiled so wide that his gums showed more than is proper in polite society.

I flipped furiously to see which song could hold so much weight to this man I knew so little about. "We all need it and Christ gives it freely" he said with much joy and satisfaction. I found the page - Amazing Grace, of course! We sang loudly and slightly off tempo. It was marvelous.

We had prayer requests and, after the lengthy discourse of the ill and dying in their age bracket, I gave a praise for the children's event we had held the night before.

We had a fall harvest party: story time in the pumpkin patch, fall foods, and "Trunk-or-Treat" in the back parking lot. My friends and I had made a haunted house/maze out of three cars ( I will blog in depth about this I hope.)

Virginia Smith, the grandmother of one of my senior high campers from this summer, said quitely, "Michael, we appreciate what you do." It meant a lot to me. Her kind words would probably keep me active at a heightened level for another month or two.

Dr. Pittard, a highly respected man whose hands shake gently and whose signature is almost illegible - I imagine from Parkinsons, asks the class to specifically keep the idea of Stem Cell Research in mind during the election season. He doesn't like to discuss politics (and we don't in class) but this went beyond politics - this was life.

The teacher was a man from Coudersport, PA who spoke openly and lovingly about Grace - and why we aren't under the law. It was very encouraging. Going to the Falls I need to hear a good sermon about Grace at least once a week.

After Sunday School Virginia stopped me to tell me that her grandson, Spencer, was going to go live with his father. She will give me his new address. "You meant a lot to him. He really misses you - we appreciate what you do," she added.

Sometimes people ask me why I go to the Curtis Trogdon Wesley class (it used to be called "Pairs and spairs" until everyone was well into his or her fifties.) Why do I sit each week with people whose hair is bluer than the sky? It just makes sense to me. It makes so much sense. I love these people and they love me in return.