“Heavens, no. That thing was so worn out I ’magine they put it in the trash heap.”
My voice went up about three octaves. “The trash heap!”
Maudra looked at me, startled. “Goodness, Brooke. What’s gotten into ya?”
I shook my head. “Nothing, sorry.” This was going to be a long day.
Maudra pursed her lips. “Come ta think about it, I don’t think we even have an altar anymore. The stage is a half circle, with steps going up all the way ’round. People just kneel on the steps during the altar call. Now, ain’t that funny. I never even noticed till right now that we didn’t have an altar any longer.” She looked in the mirror againand adjusted a curl back into place. “I musta been too distracted when we moved in there. I was upset ’bout not having the stained-glass windas anymore.”
The old sanctuary had eight stained-glass windows going down each side, depicting parts of Christ’s life. They were beautiful. I’d spent more time gazing into those than I had listening to the sermons. “They don’t have the stained-glass windows any longer?” I was incredulous. I couldn’t handle much more.
“Nope. Don’t even have windas in there at all. Said it was better fer when the church had presentations ’n’ such. Easier to see the screen ’n’ all.”
“Well, I don’t blame you for being upset!”
“I got used to it. Hadn’t thought about it in ferever until right now.”
“At the risk of sounding like an old man already, change is not always a good thing.” I was going to be sick.
By the time we reached the front door, I truly thought I was going to throw up. I was glad I had chosen a black shirt. I could feel sweat dripping down my sides. Maudra seemed to be aware that I was likely to bolt at any moment. She paused as she took hold of the door handle. “You ready, boy?”
I looked at her and shook my head minutely.
Her wrinkled hand lightly patted my cheek. “You’ll be fine.” She opened the door, then looked over her shoulder as she walked through. “Assuming the church don’t catch fire or nothin’ when you walk in with your blaze a gayness, that is.”
“Maudra! Shh!” That was all I needed. There was no possible way that everyone didn’t already know about me being gay. In fact, I was certain it was old news.However, regurgitated sensational gossip is better the second time around, especially when the object of that gossip is live and in person.
We passed the old sanctuary; I looked through the doors longingly. The stained glass windows were still there, glowing brightly. The altar, however, was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the baptismal font in which I had been baptized. The room had been transformed into a reception area. Instead of deep red and black carpet, hardwood floors gleamed. Instead of pews, rows of foldable tables were set up, already prepared for the potluck. Instead of a pulpit, there was a fountain with a stone cross on the top. Someone had pissed all over the few sacred and safe moments of religion I’d had as a child. On top of it all, someone had the brilliant idea to paint the walls a pastel pinkish-mauve color. My stomach gurgled in protest at the sight.
Without meaning to, I had apparently stopped in the doorway while I gaped. Maudra grabbed my hand firmly and pulled. “Oh, let it go already, boy. We’re late as it is.” She winked at me. “And you know what that means!” I felt very strongly that Maudra was getting just a little too much enjoyment out of this.
I did indeed know what that meant. Sure enough, as we walked into the new and “improved” sanctuary, nearly every head turned around to see who the latecomers were. I saw a few people’s eyes widen in recognition, but for the most part, the majority didn’t know who the mystery man with strange old Maudra Phelpman could possibly be. That was until Mandy raised her tiny hand in the air and waved joyously, motioning us over to her and Donnie. Suddenly the bulk of the congregation put the puzzle pieces together. Some mouths dropped. Some heads shook. Some cheeks blushed before they could whirl backaround or avert their eyes to the floor. There were those faces, however, that broke into genuine and welcoming smiles. One of which was old Sherry Heinz. Her smile surprised me more than anyone else’s reaction.
Old Sister Heinz, as everyone called her, had been, well, old, even when I was a kid. I was amazed she was still alive and, more than that, she was smiling! She was well known for her cantankerous demeanor to every child who ever walked through the doors of the Holy Church. Anytime a child sniggered at an inopportune moment, dropped a toy on the floor, or sneezed at what she deemed an excessive volume, old Sister Heinz would reel around, clutch the back of the pew with both hands, and glare until the offending child would sit straight in a terrified manner or burst into tears and have to be escorted from the service. Her bright smile managed to both cheer me and cause me unease of what other unexpected events might be in store.
We slid into the empty spaces beside Mandy and Donnie in the row second to the front. By the time we arrived, I could feel my face on fire.
Donnie bent closer to my ear. “See, I told ya I wasn’t worried. Mandy was prayin’!”
Mandy leaned over him and gripped my hand tighter than I ever would have believed possible for someone so small. Her eyes glistened as she beamed at me. “I am so glad you came. So glad. Of course, I knew you would, but I must admit, when the service started and you weren’t here yet, I started to get a bit nervous.”
All I could do was give her a frightened smile.
We had already missed the welcome and announcements. They were just getting ready to sing when we walked in. Even though the building hadchanged, the music had not. The singing in the Bible Belt cannot be duplicated anywhere else. I felt a little more at ease as the familiar harmonious hymns filled the room.
As we sang, I took in the sanctuary. Maudra was right. It truly did resemble churches on TV. It was huge. The vaulted ceiling seemed limitless, and the stage could have easily accommodated a Broadway show. How much I wished we were indeed at a Broadway show.
It was sparkly and beautiful. None of it felt familiar. It felt cold, expected, exactly like every other big church everywhere else. I grieved for what I would never be able to see again. I wish I had been back before to tell it good-bye; I was profoundly glad that Grandpa and Grandma had not lived to see this. They would have been devastated by the change.
I didn’t notice the final two hymns and was startled when the rest of the congregation sat, and I remained standing a fraction of a second too long. Instantly, my face was once again aflame. Donnie elbowed me in the ribs as soon as I was seated. I could feel his body shaking in suppressed laughter. Mandy swatted his arm.
After a brief offering, Pastor Thomas stood up behind the pulpit. This too had been updated and modernized. The entire thing was made out of clear glass. Cold, sterile. I couldn’t believe how much Pastor Thomas had changed. I would have known him anywhere, despite the changes. He always had the biggest bug eyes and most bulbous nose of anyone I had ever seen. He’d resembled Ichabod Crane, even in his skeletal frame. Somehow, that skeletal frame had morphed to resemble a small elephant. His belly hung in a limp fold over his pants, his too-sheer shirt stretched to the limits. His deep, gravelly voice, which hadnever seemed to fit his scrawny body, now seemed appropriate.
“Good morning, congregation. As always, it is a pleasure to be with you and to lead you into the truths that God would have in His will to reveal to us today. I am sure that none of you have forgotten, but for those of you who are guests with us, let me cordially invite you to the potluck directly following this service.” He lovingly patted his expansive belly. “Don’t worry if you didn’t bring anything with you. There will be plenty for all, unless I get in line first, of course.” He laughed heartily, and the rest of the congregation joined in. I have always been prejudiced against overweight preachers who rant and rave about homosexuality and “sexual impurity” while incredulously blind to their gluttony. The fact that he had not chosen the option of pretending he had no awareness of his weight as so many do, but had embraced it and laughed at it, gained some of my respect. “While we are on the subject of visitors, I need to welcome someone very special.” I quit breathing. “One of our very own. Brooklyn Morrison! The prodigal son returns!” He motioned to where I was sitting. “It’s good to have you back, son.”
I felt Maudra and Donnie both stiffen on either side of me. Thomas seemed genuine and innocent in his intention, but it seemed Maudra and Donnie were less certain. I wasn’t sure if it was possible to regret my impromptu decision to come to church to any greater degree. I was going to have to ask Mandy to never pray for me again. If there had been any chance I would be able to leave without drawing any unnecessary attention, it had just gone up in smoke. I glanced over at Maudra, but she was staring fixedly ahead, still as a statue. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed old Sister Heinzwave at me, her other hand in her lap. What had gotten into that woman?
By the time I was able to return my heartbeat to a level that allowed me to hear again, Pastor Thomas was stepping aside, and another man took his place behind the transparent pulpit.
