Sweet Accord. Felicia Mason
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With the official start of summer just around the corner, today seemed even more blessed. She’d completed her fourth year teaching at Wayside Prep and was looking forward to the full-time volunteer work she’d begin next week. Before she knew it, her days would be filled with activity, the sorts of things that left her little time or energy for the pangs of loneliness and longing that sometimes crept up on her.
But right now, she wasn’t lonely. She couldn’t be as she basked in the joy of nature. Taking another deep breath she filled her lungs with the clean Oregon air before slowly exhaling. After watering her flowers, she picked up her purse and her Bible, and with a bounce in her step as bright as the day, she headed to church.
That’s where the day took a definite downward turn.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” Eunice said the moment Haley stepped in the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“Three teachers have called in.”
Haley winced. “Three?” The Sunday school staff consisted of just seven teachers, including Haley. “Who?”
“Linda, Bob Thompson and Alicia Gordon.”
Haley did some quick thinking. She normally taught the middle grade level. For today, she could combine Linda’s elementary kids with her class. But with both the high school and young adult teachers out, that gap posed a significant problem. The first week after school let out and before family vacations kicked in usually meant a small upsurge in the number of teens at Sunday school.
“I can fill in in a pinch,” Eunice offered.
“I think I’m being pinched.”
Mrs. Gallagher patted her arm as they made their way down the hall toward the classrooms. “Just point me in the right direction.”
“If you can take my class and Linda’s, I’ll handle the teens and young adults.”
“Deal.”
Twenty minutes later, the church bustled with the sound of laughter and talking.
Cindy came in, the hemline flounces on a bright yellow and blue sundress billowing behind her. Dainty matching sandals and a handbag completed the ensemble. Cindy looked like summer on parade. Haley couldn’t help smiling.
“Do you have a moment, Cindy?”
“Sure, Haley. What’s up?”
“I’m going to be filling in with your class today. But I need to get Eunice settled with the younger kids. I’ll be with you guys shortly.”
“Sure thing.”
Haley got Eunice tucked in with a Bible storybook and a game. She wouldn’t have guessed that getting out of that classroom would pose the biggest obstacle.
“But I want to be with you today, Miss Cartwright.”
Haley bent low to give Amy Perkins a hug. The girl’s mother had died a year ago, and Haley had been trying to fill in some of the gap. She could never replace or be Amy’s mom, but Haley had more than a little experience with being a motherless child. She knew some of the fears the little girl faced.
“It’ll be okay, Amy.” She knew just the way to help Amy’s insecurity while boosting the girl’s independence. “Eunice is going to have her hands full with all of the little kids today. I think she could use some help from someone who knows the ropes and can assist with prayer and offering.”
Amy’s face lit up. “I can do that.”
“Are you sure?”
With the girl’s enthusiastic nod Haley steered her toward the front of the classroom, where Eunice sat in an oak rocking chair.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Haley closed the door, checked her watch then quickly made her way to the young adult classroom where the teenagers gathered.
The door was pulled to but not closed. Laughter spilled out of the classroom one moment and in the next voices raised in spirited debate.
“But the Bible doesn’t say anything at all about makeup. Makeup wasn’t even used back then.”
“Not true,” someone countered. “There was henna. And Cleopatra sure had a ton of it on.”
“That was in a movie, you nitwit.”
“No name-calling,” a deeper voice said.
A smile tugged at her mouth. At least someone maintained order.
Haley pushed the door open. “Good morning, everyone,” she called out brightly.
Her gaze scanned the group. About fifteen teens sat around the room, some of the guys more sprawled than seated. In the back, but nevertheless commanding attention, was none other than Matt Brandon. The urban cowboy pose with a booted foot in the seat of a chair and his elbow resting on bended knee wasn’t at all very churchlike.
The only relief from his black slacks and a black suit jacket came from a sparkling white shirt with a banded collar. At his neck, instead of a tie, was a treble clef pin. He looked for all the world like a renegade priest on holiday.
Haley did notice that the earring she’d seen him sport all week was gone. Why was he here? If he wanted to attend Sunday school, he should have gone to one of the two adult classes.
Several of the teens greeted her, but Haley barely noticed. “What’s going on?”
“We were just talking about some issues while we were waiting for you,” Miguel said.
“And Reverend Matt here was telling us about a church he was in where no one wore any makeup at all.”
“The women that is,” one of the guys clarified to laughter around the room.
With so many issues thrown at her at once, Haley didn’t quite know where to begin. “He’s Mr. Brandon,” she said addressing the easiest thing to correct.
A couple of the teens glanced at each other and shrugged.
Matt didn’t say a word. But he did shift position and sit in the chair.
“Well, let’s get started,” Haley said. “Did you pray?”
“We were waiting for you,” Cindy said.
Haley cast a glance Matt’s way, but didn’t say anything as the teens all gathered in a standing circle, clasped hands and bowed their heads.
“Father God,” Haley began. “Thank you for this day. Thank you for the fellowship of your saints and children who have come to this house again to praise your name. Lord, as we study your word this morning, remind us to maintain a quiet dignity in your presence and to, as the Scripture dictates, keep our lives, our words and our actions in decency and in order.”
Murmured “amens” echoed around the room. When Haley looked up, Matt was looking right at her, through her it almost seemed. She could read neither his eyes nor his expression. When he sat down again, it was without the arrogant cockiness she’d witnessed earlier. Or was that merely an illusion, a trick of the light?
“This morning, we’ll pick up your study of Psalms,” Haley said. She was glad the teachers all coordinated their lessons. While she could hardly present to this older group the arts and crafts and Bible lesson she’d planned for her own class, she could easily adapt the Scriptural material to suit a discussion with the teens.
“Does anyone have a favorite?”
Cindy Worthington’s hand shot up. “The Twenty-third.”
Haley nodded. “A lot of people cite that one. Why do you think that is?”
The young people went around the room, each who wanted to say something taking a turn, some citing other Psalms, but most concurring that it was the soothing peace of the Twenty-third Psalm that made it so popular. When they