I wrote this today as part of my commitment to the Clarion West Write-a-thon. A dedication means that person sponsored it by donating to CW, and then provided me a writing prompt that sparked the piece. If you would like something written especially for you, please consider sponsoring me.
Here’s all the work of the 41 days. You’ll also find these pieces cross-posted at Sterling Editing as incentive for writers to practice their editing and story-building skills.
Enjoy.
The Pre-Brunch Special
for Jennifer Durham. Thank you for your friendship and support.
Sandy Gustafson lost his faith the day he met Jesus.
It happened during the 10 AM service, which Sandy laughingly advertised as the Pre-Brunch Special: get right with God and still make your 11:30 reservation. Episcopalians liked to have their needs respected.
He was winding up his sermon on Surrendering to God’s Higher Purpose, right on time and with his usual flair. Sandy had gone to the circus every summer as a boy and spent his childhood yearning to be a ringmaster: 35 years later, looking out at the restive crowd, knowing that if their group-mind could talk it would be saying I believe in God and I believe he wants me to eat Eggs Benedict now, he raised his hand; their hungry gazes turned as one to the blue-and-green leaded glass windows, and he knew their imaginations turned to heaven. In these moments every week, Sandy made his childhood dream come true; he had just needed to learn that the Christians were the lions.
And having learned that, he trained them well. Souls were saved by the dozen in Monroe Corners. He was saving a few more right now, including, he hoped, whoever had just come so late into the back of the church.
“Surrender!” Sandy said, his finger pointing toward God, his voice like a bright brass horn.
“You first,” someone answered in a voice that was not loud or bright, a quiet voice that thundered through his bones and flashed like lightning along every nerve from his scalp to his toes. The voice made him hungry for a never-ending breath of fresh air, for a hug that no one stepped away from first, for time to listen to every word of everyone’s story in the room. You first, the voice said again, like a breeze so light it would not stir a grain of sand.
Sandy realized that no one else had heard it. The congregation were waiting blank-faced for him to get to the point.
The point stood at the back of the church. The point walked up the aisle. She was a 10-year-old Vietnamese girl in purple jeans and a Violent Femmes t-shirt. The shirt was adult-sized, and hung like a sack to her knees. She carried a Barbie doll.
She stopped in front of the steps leading to the altar and looked up at him. She gave him a brilliant smile. “Anytime you’re ready,” Jesus said.
That’s wonderful. It amazes me how you can pack so much into so few words. And leave me hungry for things I’d almost tried to forget about.
Thank you.
You are most welcome. I’m glad you like it, and it was a pleasure to write.
Wonderful…and as a former Midwestern Lutheran, entirely too true to life!
You certainly have a knack for opening lines/scenes. These first two are terrific–from start to finish.
PK, thank you! I’m a former Episcopalian myself, so there you go, a bit of truth always leavens the fiction!
ElaineB, thanks very much. Glad you like them!
Amazingly insightful view on a minister’s transformation.
I am a minister myself: how true. Loved the title.
Unfortunately, that’s how people treat the church: a place before they finally eat.