hadn’t identified myself or our church yet. After that I was much more careful.
I notice it’s getting dark, so I call the girls in to do homework, and I start dinner and put a load of laundry in, but soon I’m back to phoning. Cynthia told me that the prime time is from six to eight o’clock, and I’ve made it my goal to get through at least a third of my list tonight. I’m curious as to where these names and numbers came from, but I trust that whoever compiled this list must know what they’re doing. And it’s better than going through the phone book. I assume that most of the people I’m calling are at least saved. But occasionally I am surprised.
“How’d you get my name?” one man growls at me.
“It was on the list, and I—”
“Well, take it off the list. And you can tell whoever made that stupid list that it’s wrong for one church to be beating the bushes of another church just to increase their membership.”
“Oh, that’s not what this is—”
“I know what this is, sister. I wasn’t born yesterday. And I plan to tell my clergyman just what you people at Valley Bridge Fellowship are up to. That pastor of yours is nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing!”
“But we just wanted to invite—”
Click!
I shake my head and look at the kitchen clock. It’s after eight. Time to quit anyway. Still, I feel bad about the grumpy man. I was only saying what I’d been told to say. I hope it doesn’t reflect poorly on our church.
“Can we watch TV now?” Mary asks.
Television is a controlled substance in our house. At least when I’m home. Rick sometimes breaks the rules during the weekends, andI’ve caught Matthew watching some things that were completely out of line. But for the most part, we only watch the acceptable shows. Mostly family sitcoms. And although they often have situations that aren’t very godly, if I’m watching with the girls, I can run damage control on some of the immoral values being taught and maybe even make some good points for the Lord.
Since Mary and Sarah are done with their homework and ready for bed, I have no excuse to keep them from watching television. And to be honest, it’s a relief just to sit down and focus on something relatively mindless. And I actually catch myself laughing a few times. Oh, I know that some of the jokes aren’t particularly godly and Pastor Glenn might not approve, but I am, after all, only human. Besides, it’s such a safe and comforting feeling to have my girls on either side of me. Everything seems under control now, and during a commercial break, which I mute, Mary makes us some microwave popcorn, and I begin to relax. It feels good.
Too soon the shows are over, it’s time for bedtime prayers, and Matthew should be coming home from his job at the bookstore. I occupy myself with folding laundry and unloading the dishwasher, but finally it’s after ten, and Matthew is still not here. It’s times like this when I wish we had cell phones.
Rick has tried to get me into this new craze (or maybe it’s an old one by now), but something about walking around, or driving around, with our heads attached to those silly little phones seems ungodly. And I’ve heard that they can heat up and explode in your ear. So I told Rick no. Besides, our budget wouldn’t allow it. But right now, with Matthew still not home, I wish he had a cell phone.
I do a few more chores and then sit down to read my Bible, but it’s nearly eleven and still no Matthew. Fearing the worst, I pace backand forth in the kitchen, praying for the Lord to send his angels to protect my only son. I don’t like that Matthew rides his bike downtown to work. Oh sure, it’s only a few miles, and he has a good bike light and a sturdy helmet, but it’s so dark out there at night, especially since autumn has set in, and it feels so late when he gets off work at nine.
I wipe down the countertops to distract myself, scrubbing and scrubbing until it feels like I’m
I notice it’s getting dark, so I call the girls in to do homework, and I start dinner and put a load of laundry in, but soon I’m back to phoning. Cynthia told me that the prime time is from six to eight o’clock, and I’ve made it my goal to get through at least a third of my list tonight. I’m curious as to where these names and numbers came from, but I trust that whoever compiled this list must know what they’re doing. And it’s better than going through the phone book. I assume that most of the people I’m calling are at least saved. But occasionally I am surprised.
“How’d you get my name?” one man growls at me.
“It was on the list, and I—”
“Well, take it off the list. And you can tell whoever made that stupid list that it’s wrong for one church to be beating the bushes of another church just to increase their membership.”
“Oh, that’s not what this is—”
“I know what this is, sister. I wasn’t born yesterday. And I plan to tell my clergyman just what you people at Valley Bridge Fellowship are up to. That pastor of yours is nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing!”
“But we just wanted to invite—”
Click!
I shake my head and look at the kitchen clock. It’s after eight. Time to quit anyway. Still, I feel bad about the grumpy man. I was only saying what I’d been told to say. I hope it doesn’t reflect poorly on our church.
“Can we watch TV now?” Mary asks.
Television is a controlled substance in our house. At least when I’m home. Rick sometimes breaks the rules during the weekends, andI’ve caught Matthew watching some things that were completely out of line. But for the most part, we only watch the acceptable shows. Mostly family sitcoms. And although they often have situations that aren’t very godly, if I’m watching with the girls, I can run damage control on some of the immoral values being taught and maybe even make some good points for the Lord.
Since Mary and Sarah are done with their homework and ready for bed, I have no excuse to keep them from watching television. And to be honest, it’s a relief just to sit down and focus on something relatively mindless. And I actually catch myself laughing a few times. Oh, I know that some of the jokes aren’t particularly godly and Pastor Glenn might not approve, but I am, after all, only human. Besides, it’s such a safe and comforting feeling to have my girls on either side of me. Everything seems under control now, and during a commercial break, which I mute, Mary makes us some microwave popcorn, and I begin to relax. It feels good.
Too soon the shows are over, it’s time for bedtime prayers, and Matthew should be coming home from his job at the bookstore. I occupy myself with folding laundry and unloading the dishwasher, but finally it’s after ten, and Matthew is still not here. It’s times like this when I wish we had cell phones.
Rick has tried to get me into this new craze (or maybe it’s an old one by now), but something about walking around, or driving around, with our heads attached to those silly little phones seems ungodly. And I’ve heard that they can heat up and explode in your ear. So I told Rick no. Besides, our budget wouldn’t allow it. But right now, with Matthew still not home, I wish he had a cell phone.
I do a few more chores and then sit down to read my Bible, but it’s nearly eleven and still no Matthew. Fearing the worst, I pace backand forth in the kitchen, praying for the Lord to send his angels to protect my only son. I don’t like that Matthew rides his bike downtown to work. Oh sure, it’s only a few miles, and he has a good bike light and a sturdy helmet, but it’s so dark out there at night, especially since autumn has set in, and it feels so late when he gets off work at nine.
I wipe down the countertops to distract myself, scrubbing and scrubbing until it feels like I’m
Similar Books
