The Lutheran Ladies' Circle: Plucking One String (9 page)

“I’ll always be running in the right direction.” Kay gave Vera a smile, raising her eyebrows twice and pushing the plate of fudge toward her new partner. “Welcome, Allie-girl.”

Hettie scooted her chair back. “Let’s take a break and make some coffee now that we’ve got Kay’s fingers pried off the chocolate.”

“Ladies.” Vera took a breath. She searched for words she rarely used and found courage was a bigger problem than vocabulary. After the Christmas-ink-pen fiasco, she’d spent hours wondering if her God
was
too small. She’d concluded that perhaps she constricted His style because she was doing most of His job. She’d decided to include others in the workload. She glanced around the table. “If I’m baking, I’ll need help. Roger and his boys have signed up to assist, but I doubt if they’ve ever made buns either.” More neediness than she’d intended whinged into her request.

The women blinked at her. An awkward silence bounced around the room. “Are you saying you want someone to tell you what to do and how to do it?” Kay said.

Vera straightened; she knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “I’m asking for help, yes.” She pointed a pencil at the quietest person in the room. “Nan?”

Kay patted the organist on the back. “You almost made it out of here without extra work.” Several of the women sealed the appointment by escaping to the kitchen for coffee. Hettie leaned across the table asking Micki, “Did we ever decide what I was supposed to do with that personal hygiene stuff?”

Vera watched the meeting unofficially break up. She’d put herself out there. It hadn’t gone badly. Perhaps Jim had been right when he used to tell her, “Control was the surprising result of letting go.”

Perhaps.

TWO TIMES A year, the Sunday school teachers and youth leaders met over platefuls of pizza and German chocolate cake. Their alleged goal was to exchange curriculum ideas, but their true purpose was to avoid another “Wedding War.” Mumbled stories still haunted leaders about the scheduling catastrophe between a hundred teens arriving for the Battle of the Bands and the confused guests of the Sparker/Hammet wedding. The frenzied bride had secured and defended the sound system, but the teens had commandeered the parking lot. There was a stand-off until the pastor negotiated a solution that included many of the wedding guests rocking out to the bands.

In the past, Vera had come to these meetings in order to relay information to her husband. So no one considered her attendance strange even though Pastor Jim was dead, and she wasn’t a member of the Education committee. It would be the last time they’d overlook her presence.

As the chairman reached the end of the over-long agenda, folks closed their notebooks and began gathering their belongings. Vera’s voice pierced their end-of-meeting-relief, “I have one more thing.”

She took a breath, weighing her thoughts. She’d stuck a test toe into the watery theory of letting go, and discovered there were cold attitudes that needed to be controlled or anarchy would rise, the apocalypse would arrive sooner, and old people could expect to be ignored like derelict hound dogs. Some things could not be allowed to slip. She’d considered doing this privately but this was important. Each educator needed to nip invisible disrespect in the bud.

“Yes?” The chairman rearranged his face in what he hoped was a patient look.

Vera turned to Phil, the youth director. His high cheekbones underlined his dark eyes. He gave her a quick smile. “Well,” Vera continued, “you know how you said that if we had any problems with the youth, we should come directly to you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Two weeks ago, I was talking with Roger—he and his sons volunteered to help bake buns for the youth fundraiser. One of his boys, I don’t know which one, they both look alike to me; well, one of his boys walked up and slid right between us while we were talking. So I grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him out of our way saying, ‘This isn’t about you.’ Unfortunately, a button popped off the front of his shirt when I moved him out of the way.

“I apologized. I told him I was sorry, and I would repair it for him.” And she did feel badly. It had been a gentle tug, but the button had arced like it was shot from a trebuchet. The boy had watched it bounce and roll on the floor while she noted Roger’s estranged wife obviously couldn’t even sew on a button. No wonder Roger had custody of the kids.

Phil sat perfectly still under the white-haired woman’s scrutiny. He noticed she’d been massaging her fingers, first with one hand then the other, while she spoke. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, believing that she simply wanted to clear her conscience. Speak her regret and let it be known she wasn’t in the habit of manhandling kids. He’d be able to catch the last half of Monday night football. He added a go-ahead-nod, but closed his notebook.

“Well,” she continued, “I moved Roger’s boy out of the way, and when I turned to resume our conversation, he made a face like this.” Vera glared and worked her jaw open and closed like the Sesame Street grouch on a tirade. A couple laughs arose at her mime act, but choked into coughs when she added in a cracked voice, “I’m
not
going to tolerate such disrespect. I’m…just not.” Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment then yanked back to Phil. “And you saw the whole thing.” Her finger poked the air space between them. “I’ve waited two weeks, and I still haven’t received an apology.”

Silence boomed through the room; its invisible weight slowing time. A few people blinked in confusion. Some gaped as though she’d admitted to waterboarding visitors at Lutheran convocations. Others looked at her sideways, then at the youth director.

Phil’s face was a frozen stare. He didn’t move, feeling as if she’d shoved a cattle prod in his chest. The woman must’ve snapped, her brain cells sparking as they faded. He opened his mouth a couple of times before he found his voice, “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you need. It’s unfortunate, and I’ll speak to the kid, if you can figure out which one it was.”

“I want an apology,” she demanded. “I haven’t heard from the child or Roger, and you’ve done nothing about it.”

“What did you want me to do?”

“You saw the whole thing.”

“I was across the room. I saw it, and then you were talking with his dad. I assumed you and Roger had taken care of it.”

“We finished making our cooking plans, but he didn’t apologize and I’m still waiting.”

“How would I know that?” Phil said.

“You said we could come to you if we had problems.” Vera folded her arms across her chest. Since the day it had happened, she’d thought about the kid’s mocking disrespect. But she’d vowed to give her clutch on control a vacation. She’d wait to see what others—Roger, as a parent, and Phil, whose job it was to guide and control kids—would do about the problem. It had turned out like everything else. If she didn’t do it, it didn’t get done.

Phil scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Mrs. Henley, why are you doing this at this meeting? Why are you blasting me in front of all these people?”

“Because I haven’t had an apology yet.” That was the reason that came out of her mouth, but there were parts “b” and “c” which she chose not to embarrass him with in public. He slopped into church in shorts and a ball cap most of the time. The bulk of his inadequate teaching was watching movies or listening to music and then discussing it. He was a nice enough fellow, but needed advice and more years of experience to help 15 adolescents grow up the way they should.

“Look, I’ll talk to him. Why didn’t you mention it immediately?” Phil asked. “You expect me to do something about an incident that happened two weeks ago, but you haven’t let anyone know about it until now?”

Vera straightened her shoulders and took a breath. “I want an apology. This attitude of impertinence is not acceptable from our youth.” She glanced around the room. Faces stared at her. The silence stretched as she waited for someone to agree: the youth could use more manners. Courtesy and respect needed to be part of every grade level’s curriculum.

No one moved. Everyone’s words choked in their throats as though silence had asphyxiated the air from the room.

Vera’s eyes narrowed on the committee chairman, who looked at her as though she had snakes in her hair. Her stare finally roused him to stand and speak. “I think we should support our youth director.” He snatched up his notebook adding, “And…our teachers or anybody who works with kids.” He looked everywhere except Vera’s face. “It’s a hard job. They deserve encouragement. Meeting’s adjourned.”

Vera watched him turn and leave. People hurried from the room, giving each other looks and casting worried glances at her. She pretended not to notice. She’d tried. She’d let go, shared her feelings, expressed her expectations, and people looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. That was what happened when a person asked for help. It wasn’t God that was too small; it was people that were too narrow in their thoughts. She’d had this argument with Jim. If only he were here to see this.

Phil began straightening the room. Vera noted at least he hadn’t run away like the chairman. She approached him as he collapsed metal chairs and put them on the storage rack. Someone needed to help him figure out how to do his job.

“DID YOU HEAR about Vera?” Hettie scanned the cozy interior of Bean Me Up Kafé and headed for two empty chairs.

Kay tossed a tip in the jar, picked up her coffee, and followed. “What’d she do now? Is this why you wanted to meet?”

“It’s related. I need to talk to you about the youth fundraiser which Vera blew out of the water with her outburst last night. She really stepped over the line.”

“She’s stomped over the line for years. Why’s this different?” Kay tossed a newspaper off a chair and sat.

“Because she chewed up the youth director for something Roger’s kid did weeks ago.”

“She’s chewed on everyone at one time or another.” Kay waved her away. “What’d the kid do?”

“After she tugged him around by the shirt collar, he disrespected her by making a face.” Hettie showed her teeth in a mock-mad-dog sneer then rolled her eyes. “It was supposed to be behind her back, but she noticed it. She’s mad because Phil saw it and hasn’t made the kid apologize. She ripped him in front of the entire Education Team.”

“I thought everyone knew she had eyes in the back of her head. Why don’t they both apologize and move on?” Kay shrugged. “And why’d she do it at the meeting?”

“She’s either ill or losing her mind. Haven’t you noticed how short-tempered she’s been at the Ladies Circle?”

Kay shook her head. “Like I pay attention at meetings? And she’s always ticked at me. So, no, nothing seems different.”

“Well…you have to admit you deserve it most of the time.” Hettie took a long sip of her coffee, then not looking at Kay, set it carefully on a napkin, smoothing each corner with a fingertip as she spoke. “I think we should talk to her.”

“She does wonderful projects if you overlook her need to control everything at a cellular level. Why don’t we continue ignoring her behavior like everyone’s been doing for years?”

“Because Pastor Jim is gone, there’s no damper on her. Folks are tired of putting up with it, and she’s getting worse. I’m worried for her.” Hettie risked a glance at Kay. “She doesn’t really have any friends who are honest with her.”

“How about Lorena? She’s a perfectionist like Vera. Or Pastor? He gets paid to talk tough love.”

“Lorena would find fault. And Pastor…he’s too young and new for Vera to take him seriously.” Hettie leaned forward. “You don’t put up with her behavior. You’re the only one who’s ever talked to her honestly, like the night of the Christmas Eve pageant.”

“Well, that’s just sad.” Kay took a sip of coffee. “We’re so afraid of offending each other we don’t say anything. I think she’s stuffed her grief so far down her guts it boils out through her mouth. Just give her time and space.”

“Now the youth director is talking about quitting. Roger refuses to be around her or make his kid apologize.” Hettie gave Kay the serious-consequences stare all teachers have perfected. “If Phil leaves, that means you, as a parent, will get to help lead all the youth activities and fundraisers, chaperone the mission trip, and help Vera make buns.”

Kay’s shoulders slumped. “How about this…you talk to her, and I’ll help you buy the stupid buns.”

THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, Kay sat with her teen-age sons, Marcus and Kevin, at a table in the narthex. They stared out the window, waiting for the 10 a.m. service to end. The gray skies promised rain. Leaves tumbled across the pavement to meet under bushes. Behind the sanctuary doors, rows of people walked to the chancel to receive communion, the somber words of the
Agnus Dei
accompanying their steps: “Oh Christ, Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world.”

Marcus began doodling faces with sharp-pointed teeth on the fundraising flyers. “So, if Jesus kicked people out of the temple for selling worship stuff, why is it okay for us to sit here selling sandwiches?”

“I think it was their attitude and the way they were doing it,” Kay said. “The sacrificial system was turning worship into a zoo.”

“What did He expect, Mom? If you have a bunch of goats and birds hanging around, waiting to be snuffed, it’s gonna be like Animal Planet.”

“Sweetie, why do we come to church?”

“Beats me.”

“I come for the food,” Kevin said.

“Thirteen years of Sunday school and all you remember are the cookies?” Kay sighed. “It’s all about grace, you lunkheads. Unmerited love. You’ve received about a billion gifts from God this week, none of which you deserved.”

“I deserve some i-pod accessories,” Kevin said.

“Well, why don’t you thank Him for ears to hear that music?” She tugged on Kevin’s earlobe. “You haven’t done a thing to deserve it, but you hear anyway.” He pulled away from her grasp.

“What does Kevin’s ungratefulness have to do with whether it’s right or wrong to sell sandwiches?” Marcus asked.