Why I Go To Church

We had a bit of excitement last night at church. Every Wednesday during the school year we have a pre-service dinner. We call it 'Manna and More' because we are catchy and clever like that, and our church also never passes up an opportunity to name AND logo-tize something. Manna was particularly fitting last night as one particularly unidentifiable dish kept being asked about, "What is it?" (look it up, people).

So the evening was going as usual. Pay your meager fee, get in line, heh-heh with the serving ladies (teams of cooks, servers, and cleaners all rotate their duty about once a month) find a spot, get a drink, yada, yada. I was somewhere between getting a drink and the yada when one of the serving ladies stepped out of the kitchen to holler at the 100+ crowd of people, "Is there a doctor or nurse in here? We need a doctor or nurse!" I scanned the crowd trying to think of one person I knew who was such (sorry, Karene, but I was so freaked I couldn't think of one person). And I felt so helpless.

Trying not to be in the way, I just returned to my seat and glanced up toward the kitchen. There was one lady on the phone to 911, a small crowd around the evidently ill or injured person, one very focused woman trying to keep the food line moving by serving food, and a growing line of folks waiting to get their food. I watched and evaluated for a little bit -- I REALLY didn't want to be in the way or a gawker -- but it didn't take long to realize what I COULD do. So I got up and went to help the lone lady who was serving. (I only served one or two plates before I thought to stop and wash my hands!) Before long Tammy came back. Then she left when the 911 caller could return to her spot. Then Denise relieved me to go finish my meal as two other ladies were coming into the kitchen to trade out full trays of food for empty and replenish dessert trays as needed.

I'm sorry to say I can't give an update on the downed kitchen worker. She was awake and talking while I was in there, and the ambulance took her to be checked out. I'm not even sure what happened, and I don't know the lady's name. I'm not even positive I could pick her out of a gurney line-up. But folks needed help. Not only the sick or hurt, but the workers. I (and LOTS of others -- there is no tooting of my own horn here) just did all I knew to do or COULD do: I slapped food on a plate and smiled and heh-heh-ed with people. I teased the tiny gals for eating so little. I teased the teen boys for eating so much. I helped my serving sisters how I could and when I could. Because it has been done for me over and over and over again.

Years ago in a different, smaller congregation, we were welcoming a new staff member at a small gathering. I noticed one particularly eccentric member had the new staff member cornered and was talking non-stop. I told a dear friend next to me, "Wouldn't you like to follow around the new person and explain everyone to him? It's just like family -- that's just crazy ol' Aunt Trudy (Trudy's name is a pseudonym to protect the crazy). We love her, but we all know she's crazy." That's how church is to me -- just like your own family tree: full of nuts. But nuts that will serve, weep, laugh, mop, pray, build, hammer, teach, hug, and love as needed.

My church isn't perfect. Neither is yours. But they're my family and I love them dearly. And I hope no one sues me if they found one of my hairs in their food last night.