Talk about short stories! That last one turned out so short that even I could not understand it. Oops! I hit a wrong key and could not find how to delete the title. Here's the story.
Once when I was pastor of the rural EUB church in Wanatah, Indiana the district superintendent had scheduled a visit on a certain Sunday morning. Usually in such a visit the DS wanted to hear the student preacher preach so the DS could evaluate and offer any suggestions for improvement. But on this Sunday we prevalied and he agreed to preach and stay for Sunday dinner.
We decided to have chicken but needed to get by as cheaply as possible. So instead of buying chicken at the store, I decided to buy a live chicken and dress and clean it myself. I had done this many times before and knew how to do it.
One family in the church always gave us their cracked eggs, eggs they couldn't legally sell. I figured, "Where there are eggs, there must be chickens." So I proceeded to telepone the family to ask if they would sell me a live chicken.
"No," the lady replied, "all our hens are laying right now and we don't have any chickens for sale." Not yet fully immersed in the ways of rural Amrica, I was crushed and bewildered that this kind and loving family who left cracked eggs on our kitchen table every Sunday would not
sell me a chicken.
It was already noon and the only local store where you could buy chickens closed at noon. This meant I would have to drive to LaPorte or Valparaiso to get a chicken. While I was fretting about our disastrous situation (we had already told the DS we would have chicken for dinner). our phone rang. Two longs and two shorts, a very distinctive ring.
The lady who called, said to me, "Rev. Walker, you go down to the next house across the road from you and pick up a live chicken. It is all ready for you and I have paid for it. All you have to do is go pick it up!"
At last! I was saved and we could have chicken for dinner with the DS.
How did this other member of the church who lived several miles in the other direction know that I needed a chicken and that I was turned down by the egg family?
She had listened in on the four party line! And without my authorization or knowledge she had made arrangments for us to pick up a fully paid chicken at the next house down the road.
I went down there. Sure enough there was a live chicken , fully paid for, in a chicken crate just waiting for me. All I had to do was to take it home. So I got my axe, beheaded it, cleaned it and dressed it. And we had chicken for dinner with the District Superintendent the next day.
2 comments:
Raleigh told a story about getting a chicken for Sunday dinner when they needed one for the DS visiting. Except in his case, there was no party line. When Raleigh started he graduated from seminary, got married and took his first church all within one week. His salary for 3 circuit churches was $50 per month.
My father kept chickens for many years so we had eggs and Sunday dinner. This story tells again about how congregations kept care of their minister.
OK, on the one ocassion it was a rebate check, not a chicken. Here is the quote direct from Raleigh about his first churches near Van Wert:
"The salary was $1,000 per year and we were paid in a haphazard way. One Sunday we would get fifty dollars and the next two weeks nothing. It was not so easy to make regular payments on new furniture and a car in those days. Sometimes Marie and I would look at each other knowing that we had very little money and realizing that God was testing our faith. . . .
One time when the District Superintendent, Dr. Mueller, was coming for a meal we had no money to buy food. The day before his arrival a check for a $5.00 rebate came in the mail. It saved the day. . . . . . . . . .
When we would announce that the District Superintendent was coming we could expect to find a live chicken in a gunny sack the next time we came to church."
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