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'Lord, dismiss us with Aunt Rhody' |
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Thursday, 21 September 2006 |
Prairie Lite?
By Carla Kelly
Someday ? Judgment Day probably ? I'll have to pay for laughing in church. But it's not my fault that funny things happen during church meetings.
We call our Sunday worship service Sacrament Meeting. This happened years ago when we lived in Torrington, Wyoming.
Merrill Gould and his family were giving Sacrament Meeting talks that evening. Merrill, a dairy farmer, was a big guy who wore cowboy boots to church. The Goulds were sitting on the stand by the bishop in those theatre-type seats, the ones that fold up when a person stands.
Heidi Gould, a shy little miss, was standing at the lectern for her talk and holding a picture of Noah and the Ark right in front of her face. Merrill stood up to move her picture to one side. His seat closed up, too.
When she finished and he backed up to sit, he landed right on the floor. I ask you: what could good Christians to do but laugh? We did, and no one laughed harder than the bishop.
We finally collected ourselves, and struggled on through the meeting. Or we would have, if Shannon Gould, about 8, hadn't been there. Shannon had a peculiar, high-pitched whoop! kind of laugh. Every now and then as the meeting progressed, he'd think about his dad landing on his butt and let out that whoop! laugh. Naturally, we all had to laugh, too.
I couldn't tell you what Gospel principles were discussed that night, but I never enjoyed a church meeting more. I suppose this makes me a rank sinner, but hey, I was in good company.
I have another vivid memory of a church meeting that went wrong on a grand scale for Jason Gleed. We lived in Ogden, Utah, then. Here's the scene: Twice a year, Mormons gather in what we call stake conference. A stake is comparable to a diocese, and in Utah, they're large.
We met in a stake center that probably seated 1,500 people. The place was packed. As part of that conference, kids from the stake formed the choir and were seated on the stand behind the row of church leaders. I was up there, too, because I worked with children at church, and was there to help keep order.
Jason Gleed was probably 8 or 9 then. Before the meeting, Jenna Gleed, his mom, walked him up there and assured him if he misbehaved, she'd come and get him. I guess Jason felt pretty confident she wouldn't do any such thing, since it was a huge gathering. Silly boy.
Part way through the meeting, Jason started acting up. Nothing serious, just 9-year-old behavior that is like bamboo slivers under any mother's fingernails. He was two rows behind me and I couldn't reach him, but not to worry: Jenna was watching her son from way in the back of that enormous auditorium.
She rose and started down the aisle. Let me say here that Jenna was a big woman, a regular Viking. She had on a long dress, so she was even more formidable. She was a ship under full sail as she stalked down that aisle.
Jason, busy with his cronies, finally saw her when she was halfway to the podium. He stopped; he froze; the color drained from his face. (Let me state here that Jason was the youngest of four, and Jenna had already Seen It All.)
On she came, utterly fearless and not at all concerned that 1,500 people were eyeing her (and probably contemplating their own behavior). I think the speaker kept talking; brave man.
Jason started to cry. Jenna went right up on the stand and took him back with her down that long aisle to her seat. None of the other 60 kids on the stand said a word for the rest of the meeting. How did they know their own mothers hadn't made a pact with Jenna? Perfect.
Let me explain the title before I close. We sing a hymn called "Lord, Dismiss Us with Thy Blessing." It's sung to the tune of "Go Tell Aunt Rhody the Old Grey Goose Is Dead." For the life of me, I can't sing that hymn without thinking, "Lord, Dismiss Us with Aunt Rhody."
Calling Jenna Gleed: I may need some policing before St. Peter sees me coming and throws the deadbolt on the pearly gates.
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Last Updated ( Monday, 04 December 2006 )
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