Fictional Tuesday
(Borrowing shamelessly from Garrison Keillor)
Well the Christmas season has passed here in the town of North Hoebegon, where you can still say "Christmas" without making a political statement. Pastor Lindquist of the Dew Drop Inn Lutheran church is secretly relieved the holidays are over. Too many did drop in and overcrowding at the 10:30 Christmas Day service led to a citation from the fire chief.
Family parties were frequent as a baby's nose-pickings. Pastor John's wife Patricia enforced a strict television and gaming blackout during the gatherings. She asked what could be more beautiful than families spending time with one another and bonding over something other than a card or football game? Those were crutches for the socially-impaired, she said. It might've been his imagination, but John thought his son-in-law had an aspect of a clock-watcher about him, like he was just putting in his time. He & Sarah hit the door two hours to the minute after they'd arrived.
Patricia spent New Year's afternoon pruning the artificial roses. She said it reminds her of summer. She and Mrs. Sturgeon planned to attend the annual post-Christmas arts & crafts bazaar later that week. Pastor John was occupied with the concerns of a parishioner who wondered if his glorified body would contain his gold teeth, and Bobby, their star soccer player, played in the backyard despite melting snow-puddles the size of Lake Minotaur.
Pastor John gave a nice sermon Sunday. Reminded the flock that the hassles of the holiday were a fuss over Someone worth fussing over. Said he wouldn't have it any other way. Said the gifts, the lights, and the parties were rightly numerous and numinous, a tribute to the birth of our Savior whose celebration ought dwarf the gifts, candles and parties given for our children, siblings or parents.
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