Church Visitation
by collette mcfarland
08/16/06
I sat on the couch scratching my dog, Scruffie's, ear wondering why. Why did I answer the door? Why did I let these people in? Why don't I just ask them to leave? Why? Why?
I knew Millie, that’s why I let them in. What a fool, I should have recognized the look. She and her male friend were carrying books when I opened the door. I've had people on my doorsteps before trying to sell me their religion. I just didn't see the books in time. The "Bibles". Well now I've sat here for hours nodding and smiling. I hope I said "yes, m'am, no sir," in the appropriate pauses. They droned on and on. Meanwhile my mind went to dinner planning and what I would make, what ingredients did I have in the kitchen? When would I eat? Would I ever eat? I felt my blood sugar sinking.
I tried to maintain eye contact, tried to demonstrate some interest, thinking to myself I was making a big mistake, it only kept them talking. If they had been strangers I would have been ruder, more assertive. They wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for Millie. They threw out words like love, grace, repentance, blood sacrifice and I just stared at their foreheads designing my evening menu.
"Do you know God came to earth in the flesh just to die for your sins?" The man asked.
This was it, my chance to end this endless torture. "You know, I can't respect a God that can die. If he's so smart there must have been some other solution."
"He's a just God and the only way to atone for sins is with blood." said the man.
"He did that on the cross for you, can you kneel at the foot of his cross?" Millie asked.
"Sorry, I can't believe in a God that can die. I want one a little more permanent than that. If he's so great he can come to me."
They started closing their books. Yea, it was almost over. The man buttoned his jacket and Millie picked up her purse.
"Well, I guess we ought to get going and let you have dinner. Mind if we pray with you before we go?"
"Yes, I do." I wish I could have read his mind when my answer registered in his brain. Must have been the first time someone refused to be prayed for on his shift.
"Good night, see you at work tomorrow." Millie said, politely, stiffly. I hope I hadn't embarrassed her but I had gotten quite annoyed by now. Really, people shouldn't intrude on a person's dinner time. Low blood sugar combined with topics of sin and salvation brings out the worst in me.
After I shut the door behind them, locked it, closed the curtains and turned off the lights in the front of the house to discourage more church visitors, I went to the kitchen to stuff my face. Gods dying on crosses; how absurd. If he really wanted me at the foot of his cross he'd definitely have to take me there himself," I mumbled to Scruffie who had had curled himself into a nice little relaxed ball beside the stove, completely uninterested in my monologue.
Abruptly I heard the neighborhood weather siren. I rushed back to the front door and looked outside. There was large black cloud coming down the street. Wind was blowing every which way and debris was flying past the house. Trees were bending to the ground. Hail pelted the grass. A tornado. Scruffie went running out past me into the street, barking hysterically, yelping when frozen water the size of dominoes pelted him.
"Scruffie, NO!" I yelled, catching up with him in the middle of the road. I had barely scooped him into my arms when the funnel caught me up into its grip.
Around and around we went. Hail, trash, dirt, wood, leaves, all kinds of junk was swirling about us. We were plastered with rain. My breath was sucked out of me. We were in the eye of hell. I tucked Scruffie under my t-shirt and hung on to him for dear life. This was the end of us. I had no doubt we would die together. Oh, God, help us, I prayed. Give me a chance to understand the cross. I knew full well it was a useless prayer, but somehow a prayer seemed natural. I've heard men in fox holes always prayed but I’ve never met anyone who had prayed through a tornado ride.
The wind seemed to lessen and without warning I was bashed against something solid. I slid down a shaft of wood and hit the ground—unconscious.
I guess I was out cold all night; the next thing I was aware of was Scruffie licking my face with enthusiasm. I felt the sun against my back and I slowly opened my eyes. I had one hell of a headache, tons of scratches and badly tattered clothes but nothing broken that I could tell. Scruffie was completely unharmed. Not fair since it was his fault we were here. Voices were coming to me from somewhere. I discovered we weren't on the ground but on some steeply slanted roof. I crawled to the edge and carefully looked down. People were cleaning up the yard below of garbage deposited there by the storm. Furniture was strewn about and cars had been heavily dented by the hail. It didn't look like the land of Oz but everyone seemed small because I was up so high. They weren't really munchkins, were they? I searched for a pair of legs with striped stockings sticking out from under the building. Nope. I'm still in Texas—maybe.
"Hey, I'm up here, help!"
Everyone looked up and started pointing at me. Someone headed for a phone to call 911. I got to my feet and waved at them, glad to be alive. The sun, rising in the sky behind me cast my shadow onto the ground far below. There was a distinctly shaped shadow beside mine. I froze. I stared. I began to sweat. Then I slowly turned around to see the source of the additional shadow.
A huge wooden cross stood in the center of what I now realized was a church roof. If I hadn't hit it last night I would have fallen from the sky to the concrete parking lot four stories beneath me. I had been saved by a cross. God had indeed brought me to the foot of his cross.
by collette mcfarland
08/16/06
I sat on the couch scratching my dog, Scruffie's, ear wondering why. Why did I answer the door? Why did I let these people in? Why don't I just ask them to leave? Why? Why?
I knew Millie, that’s why I let them in. What a fool, I should have recognized the look. She and her male friend were carrying books when I opened the door. I've had people on my doorsteps before trying to sell me their religion. I just didn't see the books in time. The "Bibles". Well now I've sat here for hours nodding and smiling. I hope I said "yes, m'am, no sir," in the appropriate pauses. They droned on and on. Meanwhile my mind went to dinner planning and what I would make, what ingredients did I have in the kitchen? When would I eat? Would I ever eat? I felt my blood sugar sinking.
I tried to maintain eye contact, tried to demonstrate some interest, thinking to myself I was making a big mistake, it only kept them talking. If they had been strangers I would have been ruder, more assertive. They wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for Millie. They threw out words like love, grace, repentance, blood sacrifice and I just stared at their foreheads designing my evening menu.
"Do you know God came to earth in the flesh just to die for your sins?" The man asked.
This was it, my chance to end this endless torture. "You know, I can't respect a God that can die. If he's so smart there must have been some other solution."
"He's a just God and the only way to atone for sins is with blood." said the man.
"He did that on the cross for you, can you kneel at the foot of his cross?" Millie asked.
"Sorry, I can't believe in a God that can die. I want one a little more permanent than that. If he's so great he can come to me."
They started closing their books. Yea, it was almost over. The man buttoned his jacket and Millie picked up her purse.
"Well, I guess we ought to get going and let you have dinner. Mind if we pray with you before we go?"
"Yes, I do." I wish I could have read his mind when my answer registered in his brain. Must have been the first time someone refused to be prayed for on his shift.
"Good night, see you at work tomorrow." Millie said, politely, stiffly. I hope I hadn't embarrassed her but I had gotten quite annoyed by now. Really, people shouldn't intrude on a person's dinner time. Low blood sugar combined with topics of sin and salvation brings out the worst in me.
After I shut the door behind them, locked it, closed the curtains and turned off the lights in the front of the house to discourage more church visitors, I went to the kitchen to stuff my face. Gods dying on crosses; how absurd. If he really wanted me at the foot of his cross he'd definitely have to take me there himself," I mumbled to Scruffie who had had curled himself into a nice little relaxed ball beside the stove, completely uninterested in my monologue.
Abruptly I heard the neighborhood weather siren. I rushed back to the front door and looked outside. There was large black cloud coming down the street. Wind was blowing every which way and debris was flying past the house. Trees were bending to the ground. Hail pelted the grass. A tornado. Scruffie went running out past me into the street, barking hysterically, yelping when frozen water the size of dominoes pelted him.
"Scruffie, NO!" I yelled, catching up with him in the middle of the road. I had barely scooped him into my arms when the funnel caught me up into its grip.
Around and around we went. Hail, trash, dirt, wood, leaves, all kinds of junk was swirling about us. We were plastered with rain. My breath was sucked out of me. We were in the eye of hell. I tucked Scruffie under my t-shirt and hung on to him for dear life. This was the end of us. I had no doubt we would die together. Oh, God, help us, I prayed. Give me a chance to understand the cross. I knew full well it was a useless prayer, but somehow a prayer seemed natural. I've heard men in fox holes always prayed but I’ve never met anyone who had prayed through a tornado ride.
The wind seemed to lessen and without warning I was bashed against something solid. I slid down a shaft of wood and hit the ground—unconscious.
I guess I was out cold all night; the next thing I was aware of was Scruffie licking my face with enthusiasm. I felt the sun against my back and I slowly opened my eyes. I had one hell of a headache, tons of scratches and badly tattered clothes but nothing broken that I could tell. Scruffie was completely unharmed. Not fair since it was his fault we were here. Voices were coming to me from somewhere. I discovered we weren't on the ground but on some steeply slanted roof. I crawled to the edge and carefully looked down. People were cleaning up the yard below of garbage deposited there by the storm. Furniture was strewn about and cars had been heavily dented by the hail. It didn't look like the land of Oz but everyone seemed small because I was up so high. They weren't really munchkins, were they? I searched for a pair of legs with striped stockings sticking out from under the building. Nope. I'm still in Texas—maybe.
"Hey, I'm up here, help!"
Everyone looked up and started pointing at me. Someone headed for a phone to call 911. I got to my feet and waved at them, glad to be alive. The sun, rising in the sky behind me cast my shadow onto the ground far below. There was a distinctly shaped shadow beside mine. I froze. I stared. I began to sweat. Then I slowly turned around to see the source of the additional shadow.
A huge wooden cross stood in the center of what I now realized was a church roof. If I hadn't hit it last night I would have fallen from the sky to the concrete parking lot four stories beneath me. I had been saved by a cross. God had indeed brought me to the foot of his cross.
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